


Of Love and Wolves

by LaurynKavanagh



Category: Titanic (1997), Wolf Children - Fandom
Genre: Crossover, Epic, F/M, First Love, Forbidden Love, Historical, Killing, Lost Love, Love, Persecution, Prejudice, RMS Titanic, Tragedy, Were-Creatures, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 14:53:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 55,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7443427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaurynKavanagh/pseuds/LaurynKavanagh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where werewolves have been hunted and persecuted to extinction by humans, Jack Dawson, the last living werewolf, is returning home to America after several years on the run in Europe. When his path crosses with Rose DeWitt Buckator, a high class girl destined for a loveless marriage, he finds himself strangely drawn to her. In a world where humans and wolves have lived in hatred and distrust for centuries, can the two lovers cross the divide of their species to discover the love they both crave?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Life on the Run is Still a Life Lived

**Author's Note:**

> Hello :) 
> 
> This is a concept that I've been developing in my mind and on paper for a while now, before having the courage to release it into the world for your inspection. It's my first original plot idea for a long time, and I haven't attempted anything with supernatural elements before, but I'm doing my best to research and sculpt the story into something I can attempt to be proud of. 
> 
> The inspiration for this idea came primarily from the Japanese anime movie Wolf Children, which I absolutely adore. Without wanting to give too much away, the story that will follow this one will be a cross-over of Wolf Children. This story was the one that popped into my head first, and in fact I wrote out the plot of that story before I even started this one, but I wanted to develop this first story in order to provide more backstory and detail to the one that will succeed it. 
> 
> A theme that I wanted to incorporate into this story is intolerance, prejudice and fear. In this world where werewolves have been persecuted into extinction, I hope to bring to people's thoughts reflections of our own world, where sadly so much hatred for each other still exists. I hope I can do this theme justice, although if anyone has any suggestions or criticism, I'm very happy to talk. 
> 
> Overall I hope you enjoy this story. It's one I'm working very hard on, and hope to turn into a work I can be proud of. Enjoy :) x

In a world where humans and werewolves had lived unwillingly side by side for centuries, the poison of prejudice, intolerance and hate has finally overflowed, leading to the persecution and extermination of the werewolf population in their native homeland of North America. Despite preferring a peaceful life amongst their own in the wild, many werewolves were forced by the unstoppable spread of industrialisation to adapt to live in towns and cities alongside humans. This unnatural setting and hostile reception from the humans only fanned the flames of hatred spreading fast among the land. Hunting and killing of werewolves became more than just noncriminal, it became expected. By 1902 the human population of America had declared all out war on their werewolf neighbours. They were too different. They had to go. For a human to openly support the wolves was to outcast yourself, to shroud yourself in distrust from those around you as a supporter of the beasts that many humans blamed for their problems. Their pack settlements in the wilds of America slowed progress and industrialisation, their desire to hunt rather than farm threatened the livestock industry, and worst of all, their ability to change at will into a snarling animal was a threat to the safety of humans. Or so they said.

10 years of constant persecution and killing later, and by 1912 the wolves of North America were gone. They were now reduced to myths; stories to pass on. Men would brag of their role in the decimation of a once proud and peaceful people. Children would hear of how their ancestors slayed the beasts to make their world a better place.

But far away from his homeland of Wisconsin, in Southampton, England, the last wolf plans his return home...

***

Jack Dawson stared in awe at the mighty ship in front of him. The R.M.S Titanic, the largest ship ever built. And boy, was she big. Jack could scarcely understand how such a monster could be built by tiny human hands. Her enormous black and white body gleamed in the April sunshine, her four enormous funnels preparing to smoke their way to New York. The Southampton dock was swarming with people, even though the departure wasn't until tomorrow. Crew, docks men and observers crowded the area. Some with a job to do, but many were simply locals who couldn't resist coming down to the dock to simply stare at the magnificent vessel before them. But Titanic was more than a sight to behold, she was Jack's way back home.

He had to get out of England, as soon as possible. It wasn't safe for him here anymore. It was never safe anywhere, once someone had begun to grow suspicious about who he really was.

As a werewolf, Jack had known his whole life that most humans distrusted and even despised his kind. He'd barely escaped with his life when his pack had been slaughtered by hunters, nearly five years ago now. His pack, from close to Chippewa Falls in Wisconsin, had been one of the last to remain unscathed from the never-ending violence against the werewolves in America. They had lived a happy, peaceful life in their small village settlement, and rarely sought to interact with the humans of the nearby town. Jack had never known any of his pack to cause any trouble with them. Not that that stopped them from wiping out his whole family. Jack still barely understood how he had managed to flee the carnage alive.

Orphaned at the age of 15, he'd spent several months fleeing for his life across America, keeping to the wild as much as possible for safety, before managing to sneak on board a cargo ship bound for France in New York. Werewolves weren't native to Europe, although the Europeans generally shared the same distaste for his people. However, they were less educated in how to recognise a werewolf in human form, and so Jack decided he would be safer across the sea. For years he'd roamed across the continent, exploring, in fact even enjoying the places his travels took him to. Out of habit, he still tried to associate with people as little as possible. Discovery could easily mean death. He'd had a close call in Paris, when a woman he'd been sketching a portrait for noticed that his nose occasionally twitched. "Zey say zat ze werewolves used to do zat when zey smelled something strong, how funny!", she had laughed. Jack couldn't help it. The woman was drenched in so much perfume that it was almost painful for his powerful sense of smell. His startled expression rather than laughter at her comment had caused her to give him curious looks for the rest of the portrait, which he hurried to finish as quickly as possible so he could get as far away from her as possible. He left Paris that night.

Three days ago, in London, Jack had made the terrible mistake of letting someone provoke him. He'd been sitting in the corner of a pub one evening, sketching a particularly interesting old man at the bar. Jack had always enjoyed drawing, but since his life of hiding had begun, he'd found sketching to be a great way of distracting himself from the stress and discomfort of not having had the chance to shift into wolf form for a while. Something about the hypnotic glide of the pencil and the intense focus of capturing someone on paper helped relax his tense mind and forget about his aching night was particularly hard. London was so crowded, overflowing with people, that he hadn't found anywhere safe enough to shift for almost a week, and the aching in his bones and mind was tormenting. Around him, several drunken youths had decided to call out taunting comments about the fact that he was drawing in a pub. Somehow their beer-infused minds had decided this was hilarious. Jack gave up trying to concentrate on his sketching after about half an hour, packed up his sketchpad and left. Tonight of all nights, he wasn't in the mood for jibes.

As if his night wasn't already bad enough, the drunks had decided to follow him. Jack paced quickly through the deserted cobbled backstreets, trying to ignore them for long enough that they'd run away, but they didn't. They continued to call after him, and combining with the tension already boiling inside him from having not shifted, Jack was finding it hard to control himself. He breathed deeply, tried so hard to stay calm, but when a stone was thrown hard at his back, he snapped. He couldn't help it. He didn't even notice that he'd shifted at first. All he knew was that he was taking a running leap at the young men who were taunting him, and then he had one of them pinned to the floor under his paws. Paws? Oh shit... His moment of confusion was enough for the man to scramble free from under him, and the two men took off back down the alleyway, running for their lives and screaming for help.

Now he'd well and truly blown it. He'd always been so careful, so reclusive, hardly ever arousing suspicion, and now he had not only shifted right in front of two humans, he had tried to attack one. Jack shifted back as quickly as possible, quickly slipping back into his clothes before sprinting off into the night as fast as he could. He didn't know how long he ran for, or where he was going, but by the time he stopped he was in a completely unknown part of the city. His heart raced, his mind screamed at him for being so stupid, his conscience told him to leave, tonight. Such was the life of the last werewolf in flight for his life. Another day, another land to flee.

Later that same night, Jack had stowed away on a post train heading for the coast of Southampton. Hidden amongst the many huge sacks of mail, he'd dozed and listened to the chatting of the two men in the carriage. They were discussing their destination. Not only was this post headed for America, but it was to journey there is style, on the largest ship in the world, and newest Royal Mail Ship, the Titanic. Jack was curious. He'd heard people discussing this in London. She was supposed to be pretty impressive, but ships had never interested Jack much, except for when they were taking him to a new unknown place.

Jack's mind began to race with escape plans. He knew that getting out of Britain would be hard. The ongoing coal strike was severely limiting ship voyages, and of course this blasted country just had to be an island. Escape routes were slim. The more he heard the men talking of the Titanic, the more it dawned on Jack that this ship may be his only way out of Britain for quite a while. Although the thought of returning to America was bittersweet. Part of him ached for his homeland, with it's wild sprawling forests and prairies, but America also brought danger. He would have to live carefully, more careful than he had this side of the Atlantic. A large part of him would miss Europe, but an equally large part of him was also anxious to return home. Perhaps it was time. But this almost entirely depending on whether or not he could find a way onto the Titanic. Still, he'd snuck onto ships several times before. Surely this one would be just as easy. And with that thought, he nestled down amongst the mail sacks to sleep.

The train jolting to a halt awoke him. Jack took a moment to gather his senses and remind himself of where he was and what he was doing, before raising up from behind the mail sacks to carefully check if anyone was around. The carriage seemed to be empty, for now. He had no idea where the men had gone, but he didn't truly care, as long as they didn't spot him. With slow, silent steps, he made his way out of the pile of mail sacks, and slipped out of the carriage door and out into the golden sunrise.

The light was harsh on his eyes after a night in the dark of the mail truck, but he soon adjusted. All around him the station was bustling with people, all rushing around with somewhere to go, something to do. Crowds always made Jack feel uneasy. Force of habit. But sometimes a crowd is the easiest place to go unnoticed. Trying to look as natural as possible, he slipped into the stampede of people and made his way through the station and out into Southampton.

Seagulls, sea breeze, and the air filled with a strong salty tang. Yup, this was the coast alright. It was the morning of the 9th of April. A whole day before the Titanic was due to leave, according to the information he'd overheard last night. A day to work out how to sneak on board. Surely it couldn't be that hard.

OK, so maybe it was hard. The quayside was too crowded. There were crew and docks-men everywhere. And the ship itself was so huge that items were hoisted on board by crane, with very few simple gangways to sneak along. Even then, the gangways were sloping upwards. No way to slip inside unnoticed. Damn it. After a long time spent simply staring at the ship wracking his brain for a solution, Jack finally gave up with a sigh and turned away. There was still time. He would think of something.

He spent the day simply wandering around the town, not really going anywhere in particular. He found a large street of shops with several benches lined along it. He took the opportunity to sit and sketch a while. New town, new people to draw, he consoled himself. He'd hoped that the relaxing habit of sketching would enable his mind to come up with some bright idea of how to get on board the ship, but alas, nothing came. By evening, he was frustrated and annoyed. Escape still seemed far out of reach.

That night, like countless others before, Jack sought refuge under a railway bridge. Bridges weren't so bad. They were shelter, at least. Most people avoided them at night, mainly for the sake of avoiding people like him trying to get a few hours' sleep. Not that they were particularly safe places either, but his sharp hearing and sense of smell meant that he would almost always be awoken before any danger got close enough. Almost always.

The next morning, Jack was awoken by the almost deafening sound of a ship's horn. God, that was loud, he thought to himself, rubbing his eyes awake. Around him, a small group of children were running along the cobbled road to get to the quayside. Along the road, the Titanic's towering funnels could be seen above the roofs of the houses. Jack stretched himself awake and began to make his way back along the streets to the ship. Breakfast would have to wait. There were bigger things to worry about for now.

The docks were several times busier than they had been the previous day. Every inch of pavement was occupied with the feet of hundreds of people, the thundering hooves of many horses, and even quite a number of motor cars. Jack had never liked the idea of motor cars. Hideous metal contraptions that reeked of smoke and metal and took up too much space on the roads. What was wrong with two feet or a horse?

The intimidatingly large crowd was too overwhelming. Jack sighed hopelessly as he tried to organise the endless sights and sounds before him. This was chaos, albeit very organised chaos. He could clearly see that no one was getting through any door of the ship without a ticket. Not that he could ever afford one of those.

Defeated, Jack turned in the direction of a bar at the end of the quayside. At least he could console himself with some breakfast from the several coins he'd earned yesterday selling portraits.

The bar was a smokey haze of men in various states of sobriety and drunkenness. Jack sat himself at the furthest corner of the bar, and was about to call the bartender to order something, when an interesting conversation from behind caught his sharp ear.

"Alright, any more bets? Come on lads, play like real men, or are you just going to make it too easy for me?"

A poker match. Now Jack was curious. Of the things he'd learned from humans, poker certainly was one of the most interesting. He never truly understood why some people felt the need to put their possessions on the line for a simple card game, but winning the goods was always fun. Jack was good at poker. He had a talent for reading people's faces, and he could almost smell the fear of a bluffer.

He stole a closer look at the goods on offer on the table; coins, a watch, a penknife... and a crumpled piece of paper. Which happened to bear the White Star Line logo, and a picture of that oh-so-large ship that just happened to be sitting outside.

Jack's heart skipped a beat. A ticket. That crumpled piece was his ticket home. For all he knew, if could be his only way home. He needed it.

One of the men at the table, a cocky-looking Swede, by the sound of it, caught him staring at their poker table and called over "Fancy your chances at winning, lad? I could do with some fresh competition"

Jack couldn't quite believe his luck. An outright offer to take that Third Class ticket. It was fate, surely.

"Sure" he said confidently, striding over to the table. "Count me in"

Cards were dealt to him. Not the worst I've ever seen, he thought to himself.

"Any bets?" said the man who invited him. Jack dug into his pockets and threw into the pile the few coins he had left. The Swede snorted at his offering, but continued regardless. So the game of a lifetime began.

Half an hour later, and the four other men at the table were wrecks. Jack could have smelt their sweat if he was still sitting at the bar across the room. Pathetic.

He stared the Swede right in the eye, emotionless. After prompting, the man lay his cards down for Jack to see, a smirk on his arrogant face.

"Darn it... Two pair" Jack sighed, feigning disappointment. It was always more fun that way.

"Ha! I knew I'd still be unbeaten. Alright boys, it's been fun, but I've got a boat to catch"

Before the man could reach out to scoop up his winnings, Jack lay down his own cards. Full house.

It was remarkable how quickly one man could change from smug to furious. Just as Jack was triumphantly scooping his winnings into his pockets, he looked up to see a fist swinging at his face. A lightning quick dodge was all that saved him from an unfortunate facial bruise. He grabbed the Titanic ticket and ran. Forget the money, that ticket may as well have been gold dust to him.

Stealing a quick look at the clock above the bar, he made a dash for it. Five minutes to get on that boat...

He practically flew through the crowds of onlookers along the quayside. He dodged horses, cars and people galore as he raced to the Third Class gangway. They were just beginning to disconnect it. Perfect timing. He quickly shoved his ticket at the startled officer before leaping across the gap and onto the Titanic.

Jack kept on running. He was so happy he didn't think he could stop. He raced through the cramped corridors of passengers until he found his way up onto the deck. In the bright April sunshine, he stood up against the railings of the grandest ship in the world and waved England goodbye. He had no one to wave to, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that after so long, he was going home.


	2. The Ship of Dreams? The Ship of Dread

Rose DeWitt Buckator stared out of the car window at the crowds of people in the Third Class queue in the distance, waiting to be allowed on board the ship that would take them to exciting new lives in America. They looked so happy, so excited, so hopeful. She envied them. Rose thought she must be the unhappiest person boarding the ship today. For while everyone else couldn't wait to reach the land across the sea, she was dreading it. The Titanic was not taking her to an exciting new life of hope and prosperity. It was taking her home in chains, shackled to a fiance more than 10 years older than her, whom she didn't even love.

The door to her car was opened, and the extended hand of the chauffeur helped her out. She looked up at the ship over the rim of her hat, and sighed, unimpressed.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about" she said haughtily. "It doesn't look any bigger than the Mauritania"

Caledon Hockley, her husband-to-be, rolled his eyes at his moody young fiance.

"Really Rose, you can be blase about some things, but not about Titanic! She's the most luxurious ship in the world!"

Rose sighed and turned away. She didn't care if the ship was made of solid gold, she still wouldn't be impressed.

"Really, your daughter is far to difficult to impress, Ruth" said Cal to Ruth, as she exited her own side of the car.

"So, this is the unsinkable ship?" said Ruth, staring up at the magnificent vessel over the rim of her hideously-feathered hat, her long red hair, identical to that of her daughter's, neatly pinned into place underneath. 

"Of course it is! God himself couldn't sink this ship!"

How typically arrogant, Rose thought to herself. She breathed a sigh, feeling the annoyance of her tight-fitting pinstripe suit. She hated this outfit. But alas, it had been a gift from Cal specially for the occasion, and so refusing to wear it simply wasn't an option.

Cal himself was in his element. His black hair slicked back stylishly, in his expensive, specially-bought travelling suit with matching cane. He hadn't stopped bragging about the fact that they were travelling to New York on the Titanic since the day he'd bought the tickets. Of course Rose's mother had been just as awful; the voyage had been the main topic of (bragging) conversation for weeks. Rose had simply found the pair of them insufferable, and the only thing she looked forward to about getting on the ship was the fact that hopefully now the conversation may change for a minute.

Behind her, policeman-turned-valet, Spicer Lovejoy, was busily instructing the docks-men in which travelling cases and trunks were to go where. Lovejoy was a man in his mid-fifties, with a permanently sour expression and a shifty, suspicious personality that Rose could never warm to, even in the slightest. God knows why he had given up a life in the police force to waste his days skivvying after Cal, but Rose was so disappointed that he had. He spoke very little about his time in the force, in fact he spoke very little of anything that didn't involve what he was paid for.

Rose was silent as they made their way to the First Class boarding area. Around her, the other First Class passengers were talking excitedly of the landmark voyage ahead of them. Some were genuinely interested in the ship itself, but most were simply excited about being associated with her. As her mother had often told her, "There are very few things more important than being seen in the right places with the right people".

There was no better place and no more valuable people to be seen with than on the Titanic that day. Anyone who was anyone would be travelling on this ship. Rose remained outwardly indifferent. Inside, her heart screamed at her to break free, run back down the gangway and away, never to be found again. But of course, like any well-brought up girl would, she obediently kept walking, her arm tucked securely inside that of her future husband's, onto the ship that would take her to her doom.

The walls were deep mahogany panelling, each panel framed with gold gilt. The matching furniture and fittings were equally over-detailed; clearly no expense had been spared on the decorating of their suite. Rose found it all too trashy. Far too much gilt and not nearly enough colour.

"Trudy" Rose called to her maid as they entered the suite. "Please have them bring the crate of paintings. I think we could do with brightening up this place"

"God, not those paintings again. They certainly were a waste of money"

"Which just goes to show how little taste in fine art you have, Cal" Rose smiled sweetly at him, which he returned with a slight shake of his head. She was a feisty one, he knew that. As fiery as her bright red curls. Still, that would just make taming her more... interesting...

The Titanic docked at Cherbourg that evening, where more passengers came aboard, including Margaret Brown, known by all as Molly. Molly Brown was one of the very few people in her social circle that Rose could say she genuinely liked. She was loud, cheerful, and honest, and Rose always found that she managed to brighten the room just by entering.

Sadly Rose was alone in her opinions of Molly. Everyone else found her far too brash. Perhaps it was because she hadn't been born into this life of wealth and social status. She and her husband had struck gold somewhere out west, and were now reaping the rewards of their success. "New money", as Ruth often said of her.

However, this was only part of the reason why Molly was disliked. The main reason was that during the purge of the werewolves, Molly Brown had been a known sympathiser. She had publicly expressed her anger at how the wolves were treated, and was firmly against their killing. This, understandably, did not sit well with the rest of the aristocracy.

"Really, it's obscene!" Ruth had once sneered. "Standing up for those beasts, it's absurd. How she can defend them is beyond me. They'd have killed us first if we gave them the chance!"

Rose was not so convinced. Of course, she had never met a werewolf, most of them had been wiped out in her short lifetime, but she was sceptical of the fact that they could be quite so evil by nature. She also shared Molly's belief that their slaughter had been a cruel fate. But she never did dare to air these thoughts, for fear of suffering the same social disfavour as Molly. To express sympathy or allegiance to the werewolves was to be distrusted by those around you, a fate most unfortunate for a girl tasked with the mission of finding the richest husband possible in the shortest amount of time.

It wasn't that Rose didn't love her now sadly deceased father, but she had to admit that the burden of trying to rebuild her family's fortune after his unfortunate business mishaps was a huge strain. She felt nothing for Cal. Nothing at all. And yet in a few short weeks she would be pledging to love and obey him for all eternity, simply for the money he would bring to their union. The pressure on her to save herself and her mother from ruin was overwhelming. And there was no way out. No one she could call to for help, no one who even cared.


	3. The Strangest Things Happen on Starry Nights

Jack was sure he must be the only person on board the Titanic who was unimpressed with the ship. While those around him were happily making the most of their time on board the famous vessel, Jack was willing it to be over as quickly as possible. Apparently the Titanic was supposed to be pretty fast, so maybe he'd get his wish. 

Jack didn't like ships. They were too enclosed, too many people all squashed together in the same place with no escape; far too dangerous for a werewolf on the run. The confines of a ship demanded that he spend most of his time around roughly the same people, and for someone who tried to avoid people as much as possible, this was most inconvenient. Jack had barely spoken to the men he shared his cabin with; they were all Swedish anyway, and didn't seem to speak much English. They had appeared rather confused about why this anti-social American was bunking with them and not the fellow Swede they had expected, but thankfully they were happy to not press him for any details. Maybe they didn't speak English anyway. Jack didn't know, nor did he care. 

In the morning, Jack woke early, and left the cabin often before the other men were awake. The only possessions he had, his sketchpad and drawing materials, he kept under his pillow for safekeeping and took with him when he left the cabin. As easy going as his roommates seemed, Jack didn't trust them. He didn't trust anyone. He ate breakfast alone and quickly in the Third Class dining area, often before it had begun to properly fill up. 

He'd spent the day exploring the ship, as far as he was allowed. Jack was someone who enjoyed wandering, and was reluctant to spend too long in one place, both for safety and enjoyment of exploring. Sadly the Third Class passengers social areas were limited to the few common rooms and deck space that they were allocated; a stark contrast to First Class, whom from what Jack had seen, had all the space they could need to lounge and waste the day away, served tea from their deck chairs. The way humans sought to divide themselves socially depending on how much money they had seemed ridiculous to the werewolf. He couldn't understand how someone's value depended on how rich they were. It just seemed so ridiculous. 

What Jack hated most about ships by far was the fact that it was almost impossible to find anywhere to shift. Even if he could find a quiet spot, being caught whilst trapped on a ship didn't bare thinking about. Despite his best efforts, Jack had so far failed to find anywhere he deemed safe enough to shift into wolf form for a few minutes' relief from his tense body and mind. Ah well. He would keep looking.

And to top off his dislike, the ship stank. The smell of burning coal was undetectable to his fellow passengers, but for Jack's strong sense of smell, it was an unpleasant aroma that had a habit of reappearing just as he'd had the chance to forget about it. Not to mention the scents of two thousand other people all jumbled together in such a small space. 

All in all, the wonders of the Titanic were lost on Jack. To him it was simply a far too claustrophobic boat that couldn't reach it's destination quick enough. 

After a day spent sketching his fellow passengers from afar (his favourite of the day being one of a father leaning over the side of the rails to point out and explain the propellers to his young daughter), and a disappointing dinner (the roast beef was far too well-done for his taste. Naturally he preferred his meat very rare), Jack returned once again outside onto the deck. 

Jack smiled as the crisp, cold night air hit his face and ran through his hair. The deck was deserted, everyone else preferring to shelter below decks from the cold, but the cold had never bothered him much. Jack finally felt peaceful in the silence of the night. He walked around for a while, stretching his muscles in relief, before laying down on a bench at the back of the ship to stare up at the starry sky. Jack couldn't remember the last time he saw so many stars; the smoggy, lit up city skies of Europe just didn't leave any room for the infinite twinkling of the night. Staring up at the endless twinkling dots in the pitch black sky was so hypnotic. Jack didn't know how long he lay there for, lost in his own thoughts, before he was suddenly snapped out of his trance by the not-so-distant sound of heeled shoes thundering across the deck, and crying... 

Jack lifted his head to investigate just in time to see a flash of red fly past his bench. Sitting up, Jack watched as the crying young woman in the red dress continued to run right the very back of the ship. He watched curiously as her crying subdued, and she silently walked up to the railing. Jack assumed she had simply come out here to cry in privacy, but his puzzlement grew as she lifted one foot after the other to climb, somewhat awkwardly in her expensive, beaded dress, up onto the railings, and... over the edge? 

Alarm bells rang in Jack's head. He was watching this distraught young woman climb over the edge of the ship, promising certain death if she were to slip... or let go? It went against every instinct in his mind shouting at him to avoid humans, but Jack knew he couldn't simply sit and do nothing. He may not trust humans, but he wasn't heartless. He got to his feet and began to approach the woman, slowly, silently, as though stalking prey at home in the forest... 

"Don't do it" he called out as he stood mere metres away from her. 

The young woman's head whipped round in surprise. 

"Stay back!" she cried out, her voice laced with alarm. "Don't come any closer!" 

Jack edged forward and extended an arm. "Come on, give me your hand, I'll help you back over"

"No, stay back!" she called again. She tried to sound firm, but her voice was cracked and tinged with fear. "I mean it! I'll let go..." 

***

Rose tried her best to sound firm as she attempted to ward off this interfering young man. His clothes were low-quality, his dirty-blonde hair shaggy. Clearly very poor. Much to her annoyance, he continued to edge his way closer to her. Who did he think he was? She gripped the rail so tightly that her fingers went numb from the cold. 

"No you won't" said the man. 

Rose whipped her head round at him.

"What do you mean, I won't?!" she snapped in annoyance. "Don't tell me what I will or won't do, you don't know me!"

"Well, you would have already done it, if you meant it" he shrugged. Rose's annoyance with this irritating person only grew. 

"You're distracting me, go away!" 

Rose was not used to not getting her own way. When she gave an order to someone of his obvious class, she was used to it being obeyed. His refusal to leave her alone was infuriating. 

"Well, looks like you leave me with no choice..." the man sighed, beginning to remove his jacket. Rose narrowed her eyes curiously. "You jump in and I'm gonna have to jump after you" 

"Oh don't be so stupid" Rose snapped. "The fall alone would kill you"

"Oh sure it would hurt, but to be honest I'm more concerned about how cold the water is" replied the man, removing his boots now.   
Rose couldn't help herself.

"...How cold...?" she asked hesitantly. 

"Freezing, maybe a couple of degrees over?"   
He didn't seem to sound too concerned about all this. That was the most annoying thing. Nevertheless, something about the way he spoke made her hold on...

***

Jack knew the best thing to do was to keep her talking. The fact that she was still listening surely meant she didn't truly intend to kill herself tonight. She was so young, maybe a year or so younger than himself? Too young to die, anyway. And she was... beautiful. Sure, her make up was smudged from her tears, but her face itself was beautifully chiselled, with full lips and eyes a lovely shade of green. They set off her flame-red curls beautifully. And her scent... Jack could smell her fragrant, floral scent so clearly. He would have been happy to never smell anything again so long as he could still smell her... 

"Have you, er... ever been to Wisconsin?" he asked her casually. 

"What?" she snapped, staring at him as though he were crazy.

"Well it gets pretty damn cold up there in the winter. I grew up there, near Chippewa Falls" She doesn't need to know it was a werewolf settlement. 

"I remember one year, I went ice fishing with my father out on Lake Wissota" She doesn't need to know we fished with paws, not rods. "Ice fishing is where you-"

"I know what ice fishing is!" she snapped, rather rudely for someone who must have been brought up impeccably mannered. 

"Sorry" Jack apologised. Geez, no need to snap. 

"Anyway, so this one year, I fell through some thin ice. And God, that water... Water so cold that it's painful to feel. You can't breath, or think about anything except the pain..."

Jack gave her a moment to think about that thought, before sighing "Which is why I'm not looking forward to jumping after you"

He could see her starting to crack. Fear overtook her irritation of him. Doubt filled her beautiful eyes. 

"Here, take my hand" Jack said as gently as he could, extending his hand to her. "You don't want to do this" 

A moment's pause, and then, a shaking hand uncurled itself from the railing and reached out to clasp his own. Jack helped her to carefully turn around to face him. Underneath her make-up-streaked face, her porcelain skin shone in the moonlight. She was a work of art... 

"I'm Jack Dawson" he smiled.

"Rose DeWitt Buckator" she smiled in return. 

Woah, what a name. 

"You're gonna have to write that one down for me" he joked, and she chuckled slightly in reply. 

Slowly, he helped her climb the first step. When suddenly, disaster. 

She slipped so fast, and screamed so loud. Jack only just managed to tighten his grip on her hand in time. His heart pounded with panic as he desperately tried to save her from the icy abyss below. 

"Listen to me!" he shouted at her urgently over her panicked screams for help. "I've got you! I won't let go. Now come on, pull yourself up, come on!" 

It took all the strength Jack had to haul Rose back up over the railing to safety. They tumbled onto the deck, and fell into a stunned, exhausted pile. Jack barely noticed that he was laying half on top of the trembling girl until the sound of more thundering feet approached them, owned by two very shocked and angry-looking stewards. 

"What's all this?!" said one of them, examining the scene in front of them. 

Jack quickly withdrew himself from on top of Rose's still trembling body, her dress ripped up to the knee. 

"You stand back! And don't move an inch!" the steward barked at him. 

Great. You do a good deed, you get accused of assault. Just another reason on Jack's list to avoid humans. 

He could see no logical point in running, and so he remained calm and compliant while the authorities were called onto the deck and a party of aristocrats arrived to collect Rose, who was still shocked into silence from her ordeal. He could understand her trauma, but she raised no objection as Jack was placed in handcuffs and verbally assaulted by a man in an expensive evening suit with slick black hair and cold dark eyes. 

***

"This is completely unacceptable! What made you think you could put your hands on my fiancee?!" 

Rose rejected the offer of brandy presented to her as she sat on the bench, wrapped in a blanket.

"Look at me, you filth! What did you think you were doing?!" 

Rose could hear Cal barking at the poor man, Jack, his name was, wasn't it? Finally, she found herself strong enough to speak. 

"Cal, please" she stammered, forcing herself to her feet to intervene. "Stop! It was an accident!" 

Cal looked unconvinced. 

"An accident?"

"It was!" Rose insisted. "Rather stupid really. I was leaning over and... I slipped" 

Disbelieving silence for her fiancee, their entourage and the officers. Rose wasn't sure where she was going with this excuse, but she needed to think fast.

"I was leaning far over to see the ,er..." God damn it, what were they called?! 

"Propellers?" Cal offered, finally proving himself useful for once. 

"Yes, the propellers, and I slipped. And if it weren't for Mr Dawson here, I would have gone overboard for certain. He saved me" 

Rose breathed heavily, the effort of conjuring up a lie on the spot draining her exhausted mind. 

Cal and the other men exchanged their usual witty remarks. Of course, women and machinery didn't mix, after all. 

"Was that the way of it?" the officer barked at Jack. 

The young man stole a fleeting glance at Rose, which she returned with a begging look, willing him to agree. 

"Yeah, that was pretty much it" he agreed with a nod. Oh thank God. 

"Well, the boy's a hero then!" piped up the colonel. "So all's well, and back to our brandy!"

Of course, lets get back to the really important things, Rose scoffed to herself in her head.

"God, Rose, you look a fright!" Cal sighed, putting his arm around her. "Lets get you inside"

Rose was too tired. She allowed Cal to guide her back towards the direction of the First Class entrance. 

"And perhaps a little something for the boy?" the colonel added. 

"Oh, right" Cal said vaguely. "Mr. Lovejoy, a twenty should do it. 

Rose let out a fake laugh. 

"Is that the going rate for saving the woman you love?" she asked sarcastically. 

Cal sighed slightly, narrowing his eyes, as he often did when Rose tested his patience. 

"Hmm, Rose is displeased. What to do... I know" he smiled cunningly. 

"Perhaps you'd care to join us for dinner tomorrow? I'm sure we'd all love to hear more of your... heroic tale"

***

Jack eyes the black-haired man suspiciously. He didn't like him, even before he shouted in his face. His whole image reeked of arrogance and wealth, and his scent reeked of expensive alcohol, with an unpleasant metallic tang. Nevertheless, he looked past the man, Cal, had Rose called him?, to the shivering young woman who had clearly been so unhappy with something in her life to want to throw herself off of a ship. Something about her made him curious, and concerned for her well-being. The offer of dinner in First Class was a chance to maybe get to know her a little better, and maybe even find out what it was that upset her so. 

"Sure" he replied. "Count me in"

"Good" Cal smiled, before turning away. "This should be interesting", he muttered to his companion, clearly not intending for Jack to hear it, but of course, he didn't know that Jack's wolf hearing could detect his very heartbeat crystal clear should he desire to hear it from afar. 

Jack noticed another man lingering at the back of the group. Cal's valet. He was staring at Jack, his thick, grey hair blowing in the slight breeze. 

"Can I help you with something?" Jack asked him. 

"No, no..." said the man. Lovejoy, wasn't it? "It's interesting though. The young lady slipped so suddenly, but you still had time to remove your jacket, and your shoes"

He chuckled slightly. 

Jack wasn't amused. 

"I was in the area" he shrugged absent-mindedly. "Nice of you to notice these small details"

"One has to notice these small details, when one has previously served in the American police for 10 years" Lovejoy smiled in what appeared to be a friendly fashion, but to Jack he seemed about as trustworthy as his greasy-haired employer. His scent smelled vaguely of wood, but it was charred, burned, and harsh on the nose. 

Without waiting for a reply, Lovejoy turned to leave Jack alone on the deck once more. 

Jack returned to his original place on the bench under the starry midnight sky and breathed deeply. 

Typical. You spend your whole life avoiding humans, and when you do finally associate with one, you wind up almost obsessed with wanting to get to know her better, and an invitation to the most expensive dinner table on the North Atlantic. Not to mention, she was so beautiful...


	4. Gems May Sparkle, But Solitude is Treasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you're enjoying the story so far. This is still a tale I'm a little insecure about, simply because I haven't seen anything along these lines done before in this fandom. Please feel free to leave me a comment if you wish. Praise, criticism, ideas, I'm happy with anything at all :) 
> 
> Happy reading x

Numb. That was the only way Rose could describe the way she felt as Cal guided her back to her suite. She was received by her frantic mother and maid, who fussed over her while Cal explained the night's events. 

"Oh Rose, how could you be so stupid" Ruth sighed at her daughter, taking in her ruined dress, dishevelled hair and smeared make up. "Really, what will people say!" 

Rose felt a single stab of anger puncture the numbness in her heart. She could have died not an hour ago, and the first thought that her own mother had was what people would think. 

"Come now, Ruth, Rose has had quite a shock. I'm sure she realises how silly it was of her to lean so far over" said Cal, giving Rose's shoulder a protective (possessive?) squeeze.

Her mother's comments were almost bearable compared to her fiancee lecturing her like a naughty schoolgirl. Rose did her best to stifle the flame of anger beginning to flicker inside her. She was too tired to fight. 

Rose allowed herself to be guided by her maid, Trudy, to her room to undress. Finally away from Ruth and Cal, Rose breathed a sigh of relief. 

"Oh, Miss, are you truly OK?" Trudy asked, fumbling with the many buttons and fastenings of Rose's dress. "Are you cold? Shall I fetch a hot water bottle for your bed? You're not too shaken, are you, Miss? Perhaps you'd care for a brandy?" 

"No, really, Trudy, I'm fine" Rose replied shakily with a slight smile, allowing the maid to help her out of her painful heeled boots. Trudy was a very sweet girl of about Rose's own age. Rose couldn't help but think that the person who seemed to care most about her well-being right now was the girl who was paid to do so. Not that she doubted the girl's concern for her was genuine. She was too pure to fake such concern.

One dressed in a warm night gown (and free of her wretched corset at last), her hair combed and tumbling about her shoulders, Rose was finally left alone. Still at her dressing table, she opened the music box that lay beside her many items of jewellery and felt it's soft, tinkling tune warm her inside. It had been a gift from her father for her 9th birthday, her last birthday spent with him before he died. The sweet melody still reminded her of him, his love and affection for her, after all these years since his death...

A soft knock on her bedroom door. Rose looked up at the door through the mirror and saw Cal appear in the doorway. He'd changed into his own nightclothes. Rose had to admit that he looked slightly less intimidating out of his sharp tuxedo, but she still didn't feel at all comfortable with him in her bedroom. 

"I know you've been melancholy" her fiancee spoke softly. "And I don't pretend to know why"

Rose stared at him blankly and silently through the mirror.

Disappointed with his lack of answer, Cal pushed the door fully open and walked up to the dressing table.

"I had intended to safe this until the engagement gala next week" he said, revealing a slim black box from inside his dressing gown. He sat himself down on the edge of the table, carelessly slamming shut the music box. Rose winced at the rough handling of one of her few treasures as the sweet tinkling tune was sharply cut. 

"But, I thought, perhaps, tonight..."

Cal held the box out in front of Rose to open the lid and reveal the sparkle within. 

"Good gracious..." Rose gasped. She couldn't help it. The heart-shaped, deep blue gem glimmered in the lamplight, with it's glittering loop of diamonds completing the necklace, was truly breathtaking.

Cal chuckled slightly. 

"Perhaps it's a reminder of my feelings for you" he simpered in his silky smooth voice. 

"It is a-?"

"Diamond? Yes" 

Setting the box aside, he scooped out the necklace to drape it around Rose's neck. The diamond chain was short, and the weight of the centre stone hung around Rose's neck, refusing the wearer to ever forget it's presence. 

"Fifty-six carats to be exact" said Cal, smiling triumphantly at the sight of it around his future-wife's neck. "It was worn by Louis XVI, and they called it La Coeur de la Mer"

"The Heart of the Ocean" Rose breathed. She was almost lost for words. "It's overwhelming" was the best reaction she could muster. The necklace was undeniably beautiful. And on Rose it looked so elegant.

But then... it was so heavy. Rose couldn't help but dislike the constant feeling of his around her neck. And the diamond chain... it was too short. Rose could almost feel it closing around her throat like a collar as she pretended to listen to Cal gabble on about the diamond's history.

Suddenly the dark-haired man leaned down to become face level with his stunned bride-to-be.

"You know, there's nothing I couldn't give you" he said, sounding a though he was genuinely attempting to sound as soft and caring as possible. Sadly it wasn't one of his strong points. "And there's nothing I'd deny you. If you would not... deny me?" 

His eyebrow arched. Rose felt her stomach drop. She may be sheltered but she knew exactly what Cal meant. What he was asking for. The thought made her feel sick.

"Oh, open your heart to me, Rose?" Cal egged on. 

Rose turned to stare back into her reflection. She breathed deeply, struggling to think of what to say. 

"I'm... I'm very tired, Cal" she said, sighing. "It's been such an... exhausting night. I'd really just like to rest, please" she smiled sweetly at him, her eyes politely begging him to leave. 

Cal sighed and unlatched the necklace from Rose's neck, pretending not to notice the slight flinch as his fingers brushed against her skin. 

"Another time, sweetpea" he said, leaning down to give her a kiss on the forehead. "Goodnight. I'll see you at breakfast" 

Gathering the necklace back into it's box, he left the room at long last.  
Rose breathed a shuddering sigh and leaned back into her chair, gathering her strength for a moment. It wasn't the first time Cal had made advances on her, completely disregarding their lack of marriage vows, but each occasion always left her shaken. She hadn't dared mention the occasions to her mother. No doubt her mother would tell her to get on with things, anyway. 

Rose finally retired to bed, and sunk into the crisp, fresh linen sheets, letting their warmth envelope her. As she lay there, allowing sleep to overtake her, her mind kept wandering back to that strange young man who had saved her that night. Jack. Why had he felt the need to come and help her? He didn't know her. She was nothing to him. And yet he had gone to so much effort to save her when he could have simply let her throw herself off of the ship, just another poor little rich girl. She felt ashamed at how irritated and annoyed with him she had been for trying to talk her back over the railing. She knew he had to find him. She needed to apologise, and thank him properly. It was the least he deserved. 

***

The next morning, like the ones before, began as usual for Jack. He rose early, ate a quick breakfast and went outside to walk around the deck, sketchpad in hand. It was a sunny day, lovely weather for the time of year. As a result, everyone else on the ship seemed to be outside enjoying the sun. Lovely. More crowds. 

After around an hour or so, he couldn't take it anymore. Frustrated, he ventured back inside the ship in search of somewhere quieter. By now he had explored just about everywhere that his class permitted him to be. He must have walked the same corridors a hundred times already. But there was one thing that had him curious.

One corridor in particular, at the end of which there was a door. The "Crew Only" sign above made it quite clear that he wasn't permitted access, but after a sneaky test, Jack learned that the door wasn't actually locked. And finally, frustration at the lack of change in surroundings got the better of him. Once sure no one was around, he slowly opened the door, waiting for a reaction on the other side that never came, and opened it up. 

Behind the door was a small inner-room. Very plain, in stark contrast to the decor of the passenger areas of the ship. Two doors, one on each side of the room, stood waiting to be opened. Jack listened sharply for any sounds on the other side of the doors. One door was hiding strange sounds, of men's rough voices, the occasional grunting, and the smell of burning coal. Must lead to the boiler room, Jack thought to himself. Definitely not a good place to be caught exploring. The other door, however, gave away no distinctive sounds or smells. Now that was more worth a look. 

The room behind the door turned out to be the cargo hold. The room was cool and draughty, huge and echo-y. Stacks of crates, cases and sacks, all swathed in thick rope netting, lay scattered all around. God only knew what was inside. Why humans felt the need to own so many, mainly useless, objects, Jack couldn't make sense of. And in the middle of it all, the shining centrepiece, was a very expensive-looking motor car. Jack stroked his hand along the shining metal, taking in the plush leather seating inside. This car probably cost more money than he'd ever owned in his life. Probably enough to feed five orphans for a year. What a waste. 

The emptiness of the room relaxed Jack. There was no sight, smell, nor sound of any people around. Alone at last. He breathed deeply, relishing the silence. After several minutes, he decided to take the plunge. There probably wasn't a better place on the ship. And it had been too long... 

Checking the coast was clear one last time, Jack focused on relaxing his muscles, and felt an immense sense of relief wash over him as he shifted into his wolf form. He treated himself to a long stretch, flexing his paws before shaking his tawny fur. It always felt good to be a wolf again after so long. It wasn't that he disliked his human form, but when a werewolf spent a prolonged amount of time in one body, suppressed instincts, aching joints and muscles could quickly become very irritating. Since the death of his pack, Jack had never been able to spend as much time as he'd have liked in his wolf form, and so the denial had turned it into his preferred form. He longed to treat his claws a good scratch against the wooden planked floor, but leaving evidence behind him, however small, was a risk he wouldn't dare take. Nevertheless, just being able to shift at all was enough to make him happy for now. Finally, in the peace and solitude of the cargo hold, he could spend a few precious minutes comfortably as a wolf for the first time in days. 

An hour or so later, refreshed and relaxed from having been able to shift safely, Jack emerged discreetly and silently from the cargo hold and slipped back into the crowds of Third Class passengers going about their day. He ventured back out onto the deck for some fresh air, and as he was strolling along the barrier of the Third Class area, he found himself catching sight of someone familiar. 

A young woman dressed in an expensive dress, cream and gold this time, with her luscious red curls piled elegantly on top of her head, save for a few wisps blowing in the wind. She looked painfully out of place among the steerage passengers, and both she and they knew it. The curious stares of the steerage folk only deepens Rose's obviously deep self-consciousness as she walked awkwardly through the area of this ship in which she clearly did not belong. 

Jack was curious. Why on Earth would Rose be down here when she had the most luxurious parts of the ship to roam to her heart's delight? Well, he'd find out soon enough. She had caught sight of him and was walking straight at him. 

"Mr Dawson" she greeted him stiffly as they met. 

"Jack" he corrected her with what he hoped was a kind smile, but in fact probably looked as awkward as her own. He tried not to inhale too obviously, but it was impossible to stop the slight twitch of his nose as her gorgeous floral scent reached him. God it was just as wonderful as he'd remembered. 

"I, uh... Had hoped I might speak with you" said Rose. "If I may"

"Sure, of course" he nodded, gesturing for her to walk with him along the deck. They strolled side by side silently together, the wall of awkwardness between them still yet to break. This should be interesting, Jack thought to himself.


	5. From Someone Who Sees to Someone Who Listens

Rose was almost certain that the walk through Titanic's Third Class was the most awkward thing she had ever done. Everywhere she turned, passengers stared at her curiously, her obviously expensive clothes and lofty disposition making her stick out like a sore thumb. She held her head high and tried to look as though she neither saw them, nor cared what they were thinking, but inside she was filled with embarrassment and self-consciousness. 

She'd managed to excuse herself from lunch with her mother that day by saying she was still feeling a little shaken from last night's drama, and that a walk out on deck would be much better for her than answering endless questions from the women of their social circle. Ruth, only too happy to draw attention away from her wayward daughter, hadn't taken much convincing on that score. 

To her surprise, Rose had managed to pass the gate onto the Third Class section of the deck with a simple smile and nod to the steward standing nearby. It seemed that few of the Titanic's crew were prepared to tell a woman of her social standing where she could and couldn't go. Rose was immediately taken aback by the change in atmosphere as she left First Class. On her own deck, the passengers strolled and chatted, or sat and drank tea, taking in the air, all very dignified. In Third Class, the atmosphere was much more lively. Children played games on the deck, a lucky few with toys, the others simply making their own fun, while the adults chatted and laughed loudly; everyone seemed so happy. Rose wished she didn't stick out quite so obviously, for it was her presence that changed the atmosphere from one of happiness to stunned curiosity everywhere she walked. 

Rose's eyes darted around the deck anxiously, praying that she would find Jack as quickly as possible. Alas, he didn't seem to be anywhere. There's nothing for it, Rose thought to herself. She'd have to investigate inside... 

The Third Class common room was just as crowded and lively as on deck. Rose picked her way through the crowds of chatting women, held her breath as she pushed through clouds of the men's cigarette smoke, and managed not to scream as several children raced past her, hot in pursuit of a scampering rat. But still no sign of the man she had met last night... 

After having searched for as long as she could stand being stared at, Rose reluctantly decided she had to give up. She had tried her best, but she couldn't seem to find Jack anywhere. Disappointed, she made her way back out to the deck to head back to First Class. 

She made her way back along the deck towards the gate separating the classes, when suddenly ahead of her, she finally recognised him. Jack. How had she managed to miss him before now? She must not have been looking properly. Relief swelled inside her, only to be quickly replaced by nerves. Oh dear. She hadn't quite thought out exactly what to say to him. How does one say to someone the morning after they stop you from jumping off of the back of a ship?

By now he had spotted her, and as the silently walked up to each other, it was as though both could feel one another' awkwardness in the air. 

Rose forced herself to swallow her nerves.

"Mr Dawson" she greeted him with a nod, maintaining her stiff upper class attitude. When it doubt, keep it as polite as possible. 

"Jack" he corrected her with a smile. 

"Hello, Jack" Rose said, forcing herself to smile. "I, uh... Had hoped I might speak with you. If I may"

"Sure, of course" Jack replied and gestured for her to walk with him along the deck. 

Rose was slightly relieved to finally look like she had a purpose for being in this part of the ship, instead of just wandering round aimlessly. Nevertheless, people still stared. 

The first few minutes of silent walking were painfully awkward. Rose found herself staring around at the deck, the sea, the passengers, anyone except the man right next to her. No, enough was enough. She had to say something. 

"It's... lovely weather we're having today" she said, attempting to start a conversation. If at a loss for words, discuss the weather, was a trick she had learned in England. 

"Uh, yeah, I guess so" Jack agreed. "Pretty warm for the time of year" 

"A pleasant change. The weather in England was far too chilly" 

"I kinda prefer the cold, actually"

"I suppose you're more used to it. What with being from... Wisconsin, did you say?"

***  
Had Rose really spent the time and effort to come and find him just to discuss the weather? Weird, Jack thought. Nonetheless, he was slightly taken aback when she brought up where he was from. 

"Yeah, that was it" he replied to her, both of them still avoiding looking directly at each other. "Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin" 

A moment's hesitation, before Rose asked "What was it like? Living up there?" 

Jack hesitated. He was so unused to anyone taking an interest in him or where he came from (mainly self-inflicted of course, if one doesn't talk to people one doesn't get asked much), that he wasn't quite sure how to explain to Rose about where he had spent the first fifteen years of his life. It was quite tricky to go into very much detail without giving away the truth about who, and what, he truly was.

"Well" he began. "It's a pretty rural area. Forests, fields, rivers, that kinda thing. The town itself is pretty small"

"And there was a lake, right?" 

Well, she sure was keen to hear about how the other half lived. 

"Yeah, Lake Wissota. It's a pretty great like. Plenty of fish, great for swimming in summer, and it freezes completely every winter. Ice fishing's fun, as long as you're careful where you step"

"That sounds like a nice place to live" said Rose with a smile. 

It was, until humans came and destroyed everything, Jack couldn't help but say to himself in his head. It was true. His pack had lived happily and peacefully in the area for generations, very rarely mixing with the humans at all. That was part of what had made the attack on their land so deadly; it was completely unexpected.

"And is that where you're going? Back home?" Rose asked.

"I don't think so" Jack replied plainly. 

"Why not?" 

"There's not much left for me there. I haven't been back since my parents died when I was 15" 

"I'm sorry, was I too forward?" she asked anxiously. 

"No, no, it's fine. It's just..." he wasn't sure how to finish. He was thankful she hadn't asked how they'd died, because then he really would be stuck. However, the topic was still quite painful to discuss. He decided to change the subject. 

"Would you be more comfortable if we went somewhere else? You kinda stick out a bit here, you know?" 

"Yes, I noticed" Rose chuckled awkwardly. "I'd rather we walked on the First Class deck if you don't mind" 

"If you're sure they'd let me in" 

"More to the point, they wouldn't dare to refuse me" said Rose with a formidable smile. 

Jack supposed that people with money were born with the confidence to expect everything from the world. Or maybe that was just her. Either way, she sure knew what she was doing. 

As Rose expected, they were both let through the barrier onto the First Class deck. The steward seemed hesitant at letting Jack through, and the look on his face said he certainly wasn't going to be polite about it, but Rose quickly silenced him with a polite but firm "Is there a problem here, sir?" Of course when it came to those who had paid thousands for this voyage, there never could be a problem. And so, the steward allowed them both through, reluctantly. 

Although Rose certainly looked more relaxed back in her own surroundings, Jack now found himself as the one being stared at. But unlike the stares of polite curiosity from Third Class, here the stares from the First Class passengers were mostly of haughty disapproval at someone clearly lower than them in their midst. As someone who spent as much time as possible being invisible, Jack wasn't comfortable with being noticed. he tried to push the feeling of the eyes on him to one side, however.

"So, Rose" he said. "Not that it hasn't been great discussing how great the weather's been and where I grew up, something tells me that's not why you came to talk to me, is it?" 

Rose swallowed nervously. 

"Yes... yes that's true" she admitted. "Mr Dawson, I-"

"Jack" he corrected her again. He hated being referred to by his surname. It sounded far too formal. A very human habit. 

"Jack" Rose repeated again, her tone more solemn than before. "I wanted to thank you for what you did" she said. She spoke as though a great load had been lifted simply by uttering the words. 

"Not just for saving me, but for your discretion"

"You're welcome" Jack replied simply. His suspicions had been right. She'd wanted to discuss last night. 

"Look" said Rose, coming to a halt to stand beside the side of the ship. "I know what you must be thinking. Poor little rich girl, what does she know about misery?"

From her tone of voice it sounded as though what she was saying was simply the trickle of overflow from the emotions and thoughts bottled up inside of her. Jack wasn't accustomed to such talks, but Rose seemed like a sweet girl. She'd gone to the trouble to come and find him, the least he could do was let her vent her feelings a little. It was probably the lack of someone to listen to her that had led to her dangling from the end of the ship in the first place. 

"No, that's not what I was thinking" Jack replied. "Actually I was more thinking about what could have happened to make this girl think she had no way out"

Her hesitation made him wonder if she would actually continue. 

"Oh, it was... just, everything" Rose said, forcing herself not to sound to emotional. Far too undignified. "It was... my whole world, and all the people in it. Everything moving forward so fast around me, and I, powerless to stop it"

Rose held out her left hand, where there on her fourth finger sat the biggest diamond Jack had ever seen. 

"God, look at that thing!" he exclaimed in amused surprised at the engagement ring. "You sure would've gone straight to the bottom wearing that" 

He'd meant it as a joke, but Rose didn't laugh. 

"Five hundred invitations have gone out. Everyone who's anyone in society will be there. And all the while I feel as if I'm standing in a crowded room, screaming, and no one even looks up" 

Her words came out thick and fast, laced with just a smidge of the emotion trapped inside of her. 

Of course. The black-haired man, who smelt so irritatingly metallic. Jack recalled the way he had put his arms around Rose as he led her away, how he had hissed at him that she was his fiance. The word "my" had sounded so firm, so possessive. He couldn't be a nice guy to have to marry. 

"Do you love him?" Jack asked, and watched as Rose's anguished face suddenly turned to shock. 

"Excuse me?"

"Do you love the guy or not?" 

"You're being very rude" Rose said in her haughty tone. "You should've be asking me this!" 

"Well it's a simple question, why can't you just answer it?"

Rose's expression turned even deeper into one of almost comic disbelief and offence. 

"This is absurd! We hardly know each other, and we are certainly not having this conversation. You are rude, and uncouth and presumptuous-"

Well, it certainly didn't take much to rattle her cage. Nevertheless, far from offended, Jack was simply amused. 

"Jack, Mr Dawson, it's been a pleasure" Rose offered a handshake, which Jack, somehow unable to stop smiling at how funny her display of offence was, accepted. "I sought you out to thank you, and now I have-"

"And you've insulted me" Jack replied half-heartedly. It just seemed fun to see how much he could egg her on. 

"Well, you deserved it"

"Right"

"Right" 

For someone intent on leaving, she didn't seem to want to give up the handshake. 

"I thought you were leaving?" Jack asked. 

"I am" Rose snapped. "God, you are so annoying!" 

Jack couldn't help but laugh. Especially as she suddenly remembered where they were. 

"Wait, why should I leave? This is First Class! You leave!" 

"Ha! Now who's being rude?" Jack replied, leaning casually against the deck. He had to fight not to laugh at how lost for words Rose was. She certainly wasn't used to dealing with such confrontation. Her next move was certainly unexpected, however. Jack barely had time to react with how fast she snatched his sketchbook out from under his arm. 

"What is this stupid thing, anyway?" Rose snapped, taking a peek inside. 

Caught off gaurd for once, Jack wasn't smiling anymore. She had already opened the folder and was looking through his drawings before he could stop her. Now that, is rude, he thought to himself. 

To his surprise, she actually seemed interested in them. 

"These are rather good, actually" said Rose, intrigued, as she sat down on a deckchair to look at them closer. "This is wonderful work, Jack" 

Jack was quite surprised. He'd never really considered his drawings much good. He'd always had an eye for capturing people, but for him, drawing was more of a distraction than a skill to be honed. Nevertheless, he'd had a lot of practice, especially recently. 

He was even more surprised to see that Rose wasn't shocked by the nude portraits he'd done in Paris. 

"Were these drawn from life?" Rose asked. 

Jack nodded. During his time in Paris, he'd found that the most trusting of people were those who were also weary of too much public interest. Among them, prostitutes. A lot of them were very friendly, actually. Jack had enjoyed being able to sketch them. 

"I guess there's something about the human body that I find kinda... artistic? Like how all bodies can be so similar and yet so different in so many ways, you know?" he tried to explain, not really expecting her to understand. 

"That's not an approach I'd thought of before" Rose remarked, surprising Jack further. She actually understood his perspective. Most people would have dismissed his sketches as distasteful. 

"You have a gift, Jack" said Rose, now flicking through his many sketches of people he'd drawn in bars, on the streets, going about their lives; the most ordinary of tasks transformed into works of art. "You see people" 

"I see you" said Jack, eyeing her closely. And indeed, he did see her. Her floral scent danced around her graceful features, drawing his interest ever closer to her. He couldn't help it, she was so... intriguing? What this last hour or so had taught him was that she wasn't the suicidal damsel he had experienced last night. She just needed someone to talk to, to listen, to care.

"And" said Rose playfully, clearly preparing for a compliment of some sort. 

"You wouldn't've jumped"


	6. Hopes and Dreams, Plots and Schemes

If anyone had told Jack just a few days ago that he would spend an entire afternoon deep in conversation with a human, and a wealthy socialite at that, he would have told them they were crazy. No way would he allow himself to get so close to someone, that was far too dangerous. And yet, here he was, walking along the First Class deck of the grandest ship in the world, in a seemingly endless discussion with Rose, who, now more relaxed, was only too happy to talk about anything and everything they could find in common. 

If Jack had been surprised at her interest in his drawings, it was nothing compared to how deeply interested in art in general she seemed to be. Jack had always enjoyed art, but he hadn't had much chance to nurture that interest. Whilst in Paris, he'd seen a lot of amateur artists; painters, sculptors, sketchers like himself, attempting to make something of a name for themselves, and to have their artwork seen by the right people. Most were unsuccessful, but that meant that Jack could enjoy their work without having to subject himself to the crowded (and pricey) art gallerias. 

Rose, however, had seen just about everything there was to see. She told Jack about the works she had seen in all those galleries; Picasso, Monet, Van Gogh. Jack listened in awe as she described the paintings from memory.

"God, they sound amazing" Jack sighed, trying to imagine the paintings in his mind. 

"I can't believe you spent time in Paris and didn't see any of them!" Rose replied, perhaps not entirely realising that although some galleries weren't that expensive, they were still more than those at the bottom of society could afford. 

"Well, my sketches didn't sell well enough to scrape together the entrance fee, I guess" said Jack. "In any case, I didn't really stay in Paris long enough to do much sightseeing" 

A lie. Jack had been in Paris for long enough to enjoy the landmarks, if he'd felt like risking the crowds. Of course, this explanation wouldn't exactly make much sense to Rose, so it was better to lie than try to explain. 

"So where else did you go then?" asked Rose. She seemed to be comfortable enough now to forget about the supposed rudeness of asking too many questions. Not that Jack cared. Her questions no longer made him feel uneasy. He was a pretty good liar at the best of times, and he found adjusting his stories to suit the pretence that he wasn't deliberately running from people. 

"Well, after Paris I travelled around France for a few weeks. From town to town mostly, you know, until I eventually ended up around the coast, by the Channel" 

"You certainly do get around for someone of... ah, limited means" said Rose, her sentence tailing off as she suddenly realised the potential rudeness of her words. 

"Yeah, a poor guy, you can say it" Jack laughed. God, not only did humans rank themselves based on how much money they had, it was also rude to accuse someone of not having any. How ridiculous. 

"So, how did you manage it?" asked Rose, genuinely curious. Her life had been so sheltered, she had very little knowledge of how one without a fortune could manage to travel so much. "How could you support yourself all this time?"

Stealing fruit from market stalls, the high body temperature of a wolf and the occasional small animal hunt. The potential look on Rose's face at his answer was an amusing thought, but of course, he forced himself to lie. 

"Picking up odd jobs here and there" he replied. "There's always work if you look hard enough for it. Plus a whole lot of hitchhiking"

Rose sighed wishfully as she stopped to lean against the side of the ship, gazing out at the sea. It was dusk, and the sea had lost it's azure shine and was now beginning to glimmer gold in the falling sunset. What a life that sounded like. A life she could never have. It was so unfair. 

"Why can't I be like you, Jack? Just head out to the horizon whenever I feel like it?"

Because no one would kill you if you stopped running, thought Jack bitterly. 

"I never really understood why people don't just do what makes them happy" Jack replied with a shrug. "I had nothing to tie me down, so I just took off and kept heading wherever I felt like. To be honest I kinda prefer not to stay in one place for too long"

"Oh but that sounds wonderful" Rose sighed happily as the continued their stroll. "I can only imagine how wonderful that would be, to be able to go anywhere and do anything without worrying what people think. I remember, I used to dream about running away to become an artist"

"An artist?" Jack raised his eyebrows and laughed a little. "You know it's pretty tough being an artist. Those of us without paintings in French galleries have to make do with living pretty rough. You wouldn't last two days, there's not exactly any of the feasting on expensive food in nice warm houses that your lot are used to" 

His words came out harsher than he intended. When he'd said "your lot", he couldn't even decide himself if he simply meant the upper classes or humans as a whole, but either way, it sounded obviously like an insult, and Rose's mood changed accordingly. 

"Well thank you for your support" Rose shot back sarcastically, making no attempt to hide her offence. "You know, it gets very tiring to constantly be thought of as some sort of delicate little flower. I'm so sick of people thinking that I can't do anything for myself, and telling me what dreams I should and shouldn't have!" 

Rose's obvious annoyance made Jack regret his words. She was right, it was wrong of him to assume she couldn't do anything for herself. It was clearly people endlessly thinking this of her that had contributed to her attempting to end her life last night. He felt guilty.

"I'm sorry" Jack apologised. "You're right. Of course you can be an artist if you want to"

"If only it were that simple" Rose sighed.

"Well it is" said Jack, suddenly eager to try and boost her confidence. Something inside him didn't like seeing her so downhearted. "You can do anything you want if you try hard enough. So come on then, what sort of artist are you going to be?"

"Well, I enjoy painting. Landscapes mostly" 

"Perfect. Which means you're gonna have to travel pretty far to keep finding new places to paint, huh?" 

Rose smiled. Jack had a knack for confidence boosts. 

"I suppose so" she agreed. "Anywhere in particular you recommend?" 

"Hmm..." Jack thought for a moment. He had seen a wide variety of places in his time, some hot, some cold, some lush, some parched, but there was one place in particular that had captured his heart. 

"Santa Monica, in California" he said. 

He had spent several months in the beach town a couple of years back. He'd loved the sea breeze, the wide open ocean, and the endlessly happy atmosphere. He didn't even mind the people, firstly because the holidaymakers changed too often to arouse suspicion, and also because they provided such a great source of survival.

It was here, in fact, after a woman had tossed him a coin in exchange for the sketch he'd been drawing of her, that he realised he could use his drawings to support himself. Jack had been pretty comfortable in Santa Monica, until the police began patrolling the pier after too many people began selling wares unregulated.

Jack tried not to mix with too many people at the best of times, but twisted fear inside him on a whole other level. Police officers were trained in the art of finding, fighting, and killing werewolves. As soon as the law reared its ugly head, Jack didn't dare go back onto the pier to sell sketches any more. Too paranoid to feel comfortable in Santa Monica any more, he left the next day. 

In spite of this, he was sure Rose would adore the place. 

"Santa Monica would be perfect for you" Jack continued. "Brilliant sunsets, the ocean views, the fairground lights, you can paint all you like, maybe even sell a few. In a few years once I've scrounged enough pennies to go see your paintings of the beach in a gallery, I want credit for the idea" 

Rose laughed, which made Jack smile. It made him feel good to hear her laugh. She had such a beautiful laugh...

"Well that's being a bit ambitious" laughed Rose. "But really, it does sound like a lovely place... Say we'll go there sometime? Together? It would be so much more fun than alone" She was vaguely aware that she was becoming far too comfortable with a man she'd only met last night, but she couldn't help it. To hell with decorum. Not that Jack cared for manners anyway. 

"Sure, we'll do it" Jack agreed. Of course, he never actually believed she'd want still want to go anywhere with him once the ship docked, but their imaginings made her happy, and so he was happy to play along. 

"We'll drink cheap beer, ride the roller coaster til we throw up"

Rose laughed again. A hearty, girlish laugh that she hadn't laughed in years. 

"Then we'll ride horses on the beach, right in the surf" 

"That sounds amazing" Rose smiled.

"But you have to do it like a proper cowboy, none of that sidesaddle stuff" 

"You mean... one leg on each side?" Rose's eyes widened. 

"Yup" 

Oh how the sight would shock her mother to the core. Which was exactly why it was so appealing. 

"Can you show me?" Rose asked. 

"Sure" 

Not that Jack had actually ridden a horse before. Werewolves didn't use horses the way humans did; they had very little need for them in their way of life. It couldn't be that hard though, from watching people ride on the beach, it had looked easy enough. 

"Teach me to ride like a man?" asked Rose, grinning. 

"And chew tobacco like a man" Jack replied, putting on a fake accent just to hear that wonderful laugh again. 

"And spit like a man!" Rose joked. 

"What, you mean you can't do that already?" 

"No!" Rose half laughed half gasped at the thought. 

"Right, come on then, I'll show you" 

Before she realised what was happening, Jack had grabbed hold of her wrist and was dragging her towards the other side of the ship. 

"Jack, no, stop it!" she urged, but her protests fell on deaf ears. Her embarrassment was far too enjoyable. Jack hadn't felt so playful in a very long time.

Very much enjoying her protests, Jack proceeded to demonstrate the correct way to "spit like a man" - hard, far, and precise. 

"That's disgusting!" Rose tried to sound disapproving, but she couldn't stop herself from half-laughing. She couldn't seem to stop giggling around Jack, even when he was teaching her how to spit over the side of a ship, God only knows why. 

Despite her first pitiful attempt, Rose was pretty proud of the praise Jack gave her for her next efforts. As absurdly proud as Rose was of her achievements, she was certainly sure of the fact that shooting spit across the sea ahead of them was not the best activity during which to be caught by her mother. And even less so, the distinguished people accompanying her. Oh, and Molly Brown. 

"Mother" Rose smiled through the awkward silence. "May I introduce Jack Dawson?" 

"Charmed, I'm sure" Ruth's tone was as cold and sharp as her expression. She was most certainly not charmed. So not only had Cal gone so far as to invite this... ruffian... to dinner with them, but he was clearly lacking in any sense of manners or class. As if their reputation wasn't precarious enough. Ruth barely listened to her daughter's explanation of how this man had saved her last night (although Ruth still had doubts as to the validity of her daughter's tale), and was only too happy when the call to prepare for dinner gave her the excuse to leave his presence. 

"See you at dinner, Jack" said Rose, as she quickly escorted her obviously disapproving mother away.

Jack waved goodbye to her, and couldn't stop himself from staring. Boy, was he eager to see her again. He was so enchanted that his usually remarkably strong hearing failed to notice the stout, well-to-do lady calling to him.

"Son!" Molly Brown snapped at the distracted young man before her. Finally, he noticed her. 

"Do you have even the slightest comprehension of what you're doing here?"

"Not really" Jack half laughed. It was true. He had accepted an invitation to the most luxurious of dinners he would probably ever have, with some of the richest people in the world, and he hadn't given a second thought to exactly how he was going to navigate this minefield. Something that Molly Brown was only too aware of.  
She wasn't stupid. The second she heard that this young man from Third Class was joining them for dinner, she knew it was Cal's intention to make a mockery of him. She didn't even need to catch the amused smirk he gave to his cronies as he said it. Well she wasn't having it. This man had clearly done Rose a massive favour the previous night, and she wasn't going to let him be made a fool of. She disliked Cal enough to put effort into ensuring that he wouldn't get the satisfaction. As long as she could get Jack, who had already shown he was clearly uninterested in first impressions, to work with her.

"Look here" she began sternly. "You're about to go into the snake pit. And I promise you, those idiots in there ain't gonna be too friendly with you. So you gotta make sure you're prepared. Or do you want to embarrass Rose?" 

The woman had a point. Jack had never been one for caring what anyone thought of him, personally. Wolves just didn't have the sort of society that demanded decorum or etiquette, at least, not the way these jumped up toff humans did. Jack hadn't actually put much thought into what the coming night would bring, but his plan so far had been to eat, drink, and talk as little as possible, unless of course, with Rose. However, Molly's words struck a chord with him. The thought of Rose being embarrassed by him thanks to that greasy black haired fiancee of hers was painful. 

Molly observed Jack's change in expression at the mention of Rose with amusement. He really wasn't interested in impressing anyone, except Rose, apparently. God, youngsters. She forced her amusement not to materialise in a smile. 

"So, what are you planning on wearing?"

Jack shrugged. He had very few clothes to begin with, and certainly nothing as fancy as the tuxedos he had seen the men from First Class wearing last night.

"I figured" Molly sighed, taking Jack's arm. "Come on" 

An hour and a half later, and Jack stood in front of Molly's stateroom mirror, barely able to believe that the sleek, tuxedo-ed man staring at him was his own reflection. He looked so... rich? Suave? Human. 

"My, my" said Molly, admiring her handiwork. "You shine up like a new penny" 

She grinned triumphantly, a grin that Jack noticed. 

"So why are you going to this trouble, huh?" he asked. 

"Well you seem like a nice young man and I didn't want to have to see you get ripped to shreds in there. It'd spoil my appetite"

Jack grinned and returned to examining his reflection. 

"Plus, lets just say me and those folks in there don't quite see eye to eye on most things. They think I don't know what gets said behind my back, but I do. Lets just call tonight my little bit of fun. So, I've done you a favour, now you've gotta do me one and make those suckers as uncomfortable as possible, got it?"

"Deal" agreed Jack. 

Let the fun begin...


	7. A Lucky Hand in the Snake Pit

Jack had never felt so out of place in his life. He felt painfully self-conscious in these clothes, no matter how rich they made him look. As he walked through the First Class hallways, both awestruck and bewildered by their grand and extravagant decor, he felt his insides doing back flips with nerves. God, what was he thinking? A new suit couldn't magically turn him into a sophisticated aristocratic human. No way was he going to pull this off. At worst, he'd make an idiot of himself, and at best, his true identity would be discovered and he'd end the night as a pelt on someone's cabin floor. Good thing this meal was the fanciest on the Atlantic, because it was probably going to be his last. 

Nevertheless, he forced himself to keep going. He made his way, stiffly, along to the Grand Staircase, with it's intricately carved designs that were almost artistic enough to justify the deaths of the trees that formed their canvas. Of course, Jack had very little idea of exactly where he was supposed to be going. Everything in First Class looked so huge. Thankfully, all around him were elegantly (and expensively no doubt) dressed ladies and gentlemen making their way in the same general direction; down the staircase and towards the floaty sounds of a string band. Guess that's my best bet, Jack thought to himself, and he followed the people down towards the music.

As the trail of people he followed came to an end at what looked to be the entrance to the dining room, Jack suddenly realised that he didn't actually know where he was supposed to meet the people he was joining for dinner. Rats. Cal's first strike, no doubt. Unsure of what to do, he figured that if this was the only entrance, his best bet was to wait here. 

Jack eyed the men around him closely. He was astounded by how remarkably similar they all were, right down to their scents, the range of which didn't go beyond a mixture of fine whiskey and expensive leather, which just the occasional dash of elegantly aged paper, like that of a book so old and rare that it was a mere library ornament. Did humans intentionally try to make themselves as indistinguishable as possible? The men were all dressed almost identically to each other, and Jack himself. What exactly was a tuxedo anyway, some sort of uniform? Almost every man had completed his ensemble for the night with an exquisitely dressed lady wrapped delicately around his arm. The final uniformed accessory. 

Aware of how must scrutiny he would be under, Jack tried to use the men for some last minute study. He tried to imitate their posture, their actions, their expressions. He felt utterly ridiculous. He couldn't have been doing too badly though, considering the occasional polite "good evening" he received. 

Suddenly, Jack caught hold of a slight scent of steel. Sickly and metallic. Following his nose, he looked up to the staircase to see the man from the previous night, Cal, was his name? Interestingly, his accessory for the night wasn't the red haired beauty Jack had spent the afternoon with, but what was clearly a former red haired beauty, before time, and no doubt, stress, had etched most of it away. 

"For goodness' sake, where is my daughter?" the woman snapped quietly in Cal's ear. Was this Rose's mother?

"Oh, she'll be along" said Cal vaguelly. 

Jack prepared himself to be spoken to as they approached, but found himself completely ignored by the pair of them. They brushed past him, eager to bid good evening to a lady across the way. 

Right, so they invite him to dinner, and they weren't even going to acknowledge him. Lovely. 

Any annoyance Jack may had felt in that moment was very quickly overshadowed by awe, as from the corner of his eye, he saw Rose descending the staircase, smiling at him shyly in her burgundy beaded dress, her hair piled up on her head in a detailed style. She looked nothing short of amazing, and Jack couldn't help but stare as she came towards him. 

Rose had had to take a double look to make sure she was staring at the right man. Jack looked startlingly different in his evening wear with his normally messy blonde hair neatly slicked back. Where on Earth did he get that tuxedo from? Whatever, all that mattered was that he was here, and he looked amazing. Rose had found herself strangely itching with nerves as she'd dressed, taking more care with her appearance than usual, but now that she was here in front of Jack, she found herself strangely nervous. She smiled at him shyly, pausing just a step above him. 

What was he supposed to do? What did humans do in these situations? Hmm. Jack suddenly recalled what he'd seen one gentleman do to greet a lady not long ago. Trying desperately not to seem awkward, he gently took Roses's white gloved-hand, raised it to his lips and gave it a kiss.

"I think that's what I'm supposed to do" he said with an awkward smile. 

Rose giggled. She was revealed to see that Jack appeared to be as nervous as she felt. 

Taking inspiration from his very limited knowledge of custom, Jack offered his right arm to Rose who happily linked it with her own and let him escort her over to her mother and Cal. 

"Darling" she tore an unwilling Cal's attentions away from the countess he was in conversation with. "Surely you remember Mr Dawson?"

"Dawson!?" Cal's looked at Jack up and down in surprise. Jack ignored his resentment at being referred to by his last name. "Why, that's amazing! You could almost pass for a gentleman!" 

Well, this guy sure wasn't going to waste any time on the insults. 

"Almost", Jack agreed with a smile. If he wanted to be sarcastic, he was only too happy to join in. 

As they made their way towards the dining area, Jack tried his best not to feel overwhelmed as Rose pointed out endless rich and well-known people. Well, well-known amongst humans, that is. 

"That's John Jacob Astor" Rose pointed to a moustached man, accompanied by a rather young woman whom appeared to be his wife. "His little wifey there, Madeleine, is my age and in a delicate condition. See how she's trying to hide it? Quite the scandal!" 

She was having a baby with a man she loved. Why was that such a scandal? So little of this made any sense to Jack. The whole atmosphere felt far too stiff and formal for his liking. Were these people genuinely enjoying themselves? Or was this all some sort of act they felt the need to put on? How sad their lives must be, forever putting on a performance they believed those around them wanted to see. He was more than relieved when the arrival of Molly Brown injected some much needed life into the party. 

"Care to escort a lady to dinner?" she asked him with a cheeky wink. 

"Why, certainly" Jack replied, offering her his other arm with a matching wink. 

"See, ain't nothing to it is there? Remember, they love money, so just act like you own a goldmine, and you're in the club" 

"Right. 'Hi, I'm Jack and I own a gold mine', got it" 

"Well, perhaps a little more subtle" Rose laughed, as Molly led them briskly over to the Astors. 

"Hey, Astor!" Molly called to her friend, never the one for formalities. 

"Why hello, Molly" Mr Astor smiled to his friend. 

"J.J, Madeleine, I'd like you to meet Jack Dawson" Rose introduced them. 

Jack shook hands with them both. 

"I say, are you of the Boston Dawsons?" asked J.J. 

"No, the Chippewa Falls Dawsons, actually" Jack replied. 

"Oh, yes, of course, I see" J.J replied, demonstrating that he clearly didn't. 

As they all sat down for dinner, Jack was dismayed to see that he several seats away from Rose, but at least he had Molly next to him for help. And with one look down at the vast array of cutlery in front of him, he was sure he was going to need it. 

"Are these all for me?" he whispered to Molly. 

"Just start from the outside and work your way in" Molly muttered in reply, nodding at him to follow her lead as the first course was served. 

Jack thought it was all going rather well, until the conversation inevitably was turned to him. To his surprise, the first round of attack was launched not by Cal, but by Rose's mother. 

"Tell us about the accommodation in Steerage, Mr Dawson" she said with a sickly sweet smile. "I hear they're quite good on this ship" 

Well, there goes the gold mine. Ah well. 

"The best I've seen, ma'am" he replied happily. "Hardly any rats" 

The table chuckled. Jack gave Ruth an innocently kind smile which certainly wasn't returned. 

"Mr Dawson is joining us from the Third Class" Cal announced. "He was of some assistance to my fiance last night, it seems"

"Indeed he was" Rose continued eagerly. "In fact it turns out that Mr Dawson is quite a fine artist. He was kind enough to show me some of his work today" 

Jack smiled. Rose seemed eager to paint him in the best possible light to this lot. She must have realised that Cal didn't intend for tonight to go well for him. 

"Well, Rose and I differ somewhat in our definition of fine art" Cal replied. "Not to insult your work, of course" he continued to Jack vaguely, as though he really didn't care whether he offended him or not. 

"Jack spent time working on his art in Paris" Rose continued, eager for the group to be impressed with her new friend. 

"Oh really?" piped up Ruth. "And tell us, how is it you have the means to travel?" 

Great. Rose had meant well, but Jack had hoped to not have to go into too much detail about himself or his life. This would be tricky. 

"I work my way from place to place" Jack explained, taking a bite of a cracker to hide his discomfort at the whole table of eyes being focused directly at him. "Slowly but surely. I know its not the most direct way to travel but as an artist I prefer the scenic route anyway. But I won my ticket on Titanic here with a lucky hand at poker. A very lucky hand" 

He could hear several of the men chortle in amusement, some perhaps jealous that such lucky hands had often failed them.

"All life is a game of luck" declared Colonel Gracie, whom Jack recognised from last night, in his deep, hearty voice. 

Cal chuckled and shook his head. 

"A real man makes his own luck, Archie" he replied. 

"I don't tend to focus on luck too much" Jack continued. Perhaps it was the steady sips of champagne he'd had, but he suddenly felt much more at ease with the conversation. And more importantly, much more confident in attempting to put Cal down. 

"I don't really care much for material wealth to be honest. I mean yeah, if luck happens to get you, then great. Just look at me, last week I was sleeping under a bridge and now here I am on the grandest ship in the world, having champagne with you people" 

He held out his glass to the waiter for a much appreciated refill. 

"But I figure I'm already enough luck just to be alive. I've got the air in my lungs and a few blank sheets of paper, and I'm happy with that. You never know what hand you're gonna get dealt next, so appreciate the one you have right now. I always try to make each day count, 'cause you never know which one's gonna be your last" 

Jack's plan of saying as little as possible had well and truly been thrown right out of the nearest porthole. Now he understood why humans enjoyed drinking fermented fruit juice so much. The champagne, one bottle of which probably cost more money than Jack had ever had in his life, had conjured a speech straight from his heart that had silenced everyone at the table. Neither Cal nor Ruth could seem to think of a reply snarky enough to get away with. 

"Well said Jack" declared Molly with a triumphant smile. Jack had well and truly fulfilled his side of the bargain. 

"Here here!" sang Gracie in agreement. 

Across the table, Rose raised her glass, her eyes fixated on Jack. 

"To making it count" she toasted, giving him an impressed smile. 

As the table repeated her words, Jack smiled back at her, both of them unaware that their private exchange had been noticed by both Cal and Ruth. 

Jack breathed an inner sigh of enormous relief as the conversation gradually turned away from him. That had gone as well as could be expected. He allowed himself to enjoy the rest of the meal, most of it containing food he had never heard of before, let alone eaten. This included caviar, which, he was told on the sly by Molly, was fish eggs. Jack grimaced as the black lumpy substance was dropped onto his plate. It was baffling that anyone would rather smear a smidge of this black slime-like substance onto a tiny cracker instead of take a nice juicy bite out of a freshly caught fish. It tasted far worse than a proper fish, and far less filling. 

The last course was served, and a tray of cigars was passed around (which Jack declined; smoking, a purely human habit, had never interested him enough to try, but he was aware that the coughing fit it would surely give him would destroy the positive image he currently had amongst Rose's crowd), and everyone began to draw their minds towards heading elsewhere. 

"Next it'll be brandies in the smoking room" Rose whispered to Jack across the table. 

Jack grinned as, sure enough, the Colonel got to his feet and loudly invited the men of the table to join him in a brandy. 

"Now they'll retreat into a cloud of smoke and congratulate themselves on being masters of the universe" Rose continued. 

"Joining us, Dawson?" called the Colonel to Jack, catching him by surprise. Well, he must have made a good impression if they were inviting him for cigars and brandy. Not that that would persuade Jack to accept their offer. He had no desire for cigars nor brandy, and the thought of putting himself through the ordeal of spending time amongst these men without having Rose there to make it worthwhile sounded unquestionably unpleasant. 

"No thank you" he replied politely. "I should be heading back" 

"Probably best" agreed Cal and he strode up to Jack on his way out with the other men. "It'll all be business and politics. I doubt that'd interest you"

Jack fought to control the twitch of his nose as Cal's tangy metallic scene flooded around him as the man got too close, giving him a "friendly" pat on the back. 

"Good of you to come, Dawson" said Cal as he swept from the room. Jack didn't reply. Not only because he was done being polite to the man, but also because he was more interested in the suspiciously narrowed eyes of Cal's valet, Lovejoy, as he followed his employer outside. There was something weird about that man, and it wasn't just his charred wood scent. 

"Jack, must you go" asked Rose. She has enjoyed this evening far more than any she had in a long time, and she didn't want it to come to an end.  
"Time to go back to rowing with the other slaves" Jack shrugged, making Rose smile. 

"Goodnight, Rose" he said, taking her hand to kiss goodbye. He paused, his lips hovering just above her hand for just long enough to mutter, low enough for her to hear, "Meet me at the clock" 

He didn't wait for a reply. A swift kiss goodbye, and he was gone. 

Jack breathed an enormous sigh of relief as he walked briskly out towards the staircase. After making such a success of himself in there, and fuelled by the liquid courage of the champagne, he had decided to give in to his urge to try see Rose again. His more alert conscience told him this was breaking every rule in his book, but Jack wasn't listening. Rose had looked so proud of him as she gave the toast, and so sad when he'd left. Everything in his mind told him it was wrong. But he had to see her again. He just had to. 

Jack waited at the landing of the now almost deserted Grand Staircase, by the clock, as he'd told her. He watched the minutes tick by, every little click of the clock thundering in his sensitive ears. What if she didn't come? What if he'd been wrong? Just as he was about to give up hope, his ears picked up the sound of familiar heels clicking on the immaculately polished floor. He turned round to see Rose ascending the stairs towards him. 

He smiled. She had come to him. He'd bought a few more precious hours with her before she would surely disappear back into the crowd of lace gowns, champagne and dreadful caviar forever. 

"They call that a party?" he laughed and Rose approached him. 

Her previously uncertain face lightened into a giggle. 

"Well you seemed to be enjoying it" Rose remarked as she took his proffered arm. 

"That, is simply because I am a master of disguise" Jack joked, laughing to himself at the enormity of the truth of the comment that Rose was oblivious to. 

"Come on, lets get out of here. It's way too stuffy" 

He led her out onto the deserted deck, and they made their way towards the gate to the Third Class area. Jack had had more than enough of rich people for one night.


	8. An Inexplicable Sense of Happiness

"Oh God, the look on Cal's face after that speech you gave... He looked like he was sucking on a lemon! I'll never forget that look" Rose laughed as she and Jack walked along the Third Class deck together. Cal, so used to being completely in control, the look on his face as he was upstaged had been priceless.

"Well I was just being honest" Jack shrugged modestly, though he couldn't help but smile a little, secretly enjoying his triumph over the greasy prat. He had needed taking down a peg or two.

The night air was chilly, a soft wind blowing in from the icy sea below them. Jack felt Rose shiver a little as they strolled along, arm in arm. Even without his warm suit jacket, Jack's naturally higher werewolf body temperature protected him from the cold, but Rose, a mere human in her short-sleeved evening gown, had no such protection.

"Are you cold?" Jack asked her.

"A little" she replied. "Could we go inside for a while?"

In all honesty, Jack would have preferred to stay out on the deck, with it's wonderful emptiness, but he didn't like seeing Rose shiver.

Jack led them inside through the nearest entrance, not quite sure where to take Rose. The Third Class quarters wasn't exactly abundant with things to do.

"Ah, that's better" Rose sighed happily as she leaned against the wall of the hallway, a wave of warmth surrounding her. Suddenly she narrowed her eyes curiously. "What's that noise?"

Jack, as he always was when with Rose, had been too focused on the beautiful girl who somehow enjoyed spending time with him to notice the noise around him as clearly as his wolf hearing allowed. At Rose's question, he listened closer, and picked up the sound of... Irish music? He thought it was Irish, at least. Music wasn't exactly his strong point.

"Must be some sort of party" he said, realising that that explained why the decks and corridors were so empty. Of course. Saturday nights seemed particularly valued to humans; whenever there was a party to be had, it usually turned out to be on a Saturday.

"Oh it sounds lovely!" said Rose. And indeed it did. So lovely and cheerful with it's catchy rhythm, unlike the stiff and formal orchestra of First Class. "Can we go and see? Please?"

That really didn't sound like a good idea to Jack. There would be so many people, all crammed together...

But then he looked at Rose, so happy and hopeful, looking up at him with her eyes bright and brimming with excitement, and he just couldn't bring himself to risk snuffing out that flame of joy by saying no.

They followed their ears through the hallways to the common room where the party was being held. Sure enough, the modestly-sized room was packed full of people; drinking and smoking, children playing games, and up on a raised platform, people danced along happily to the music being blasted around the room by the band situated right in the centre of it all, surrounded by people clapping along to the rhythm. They all looked like they were having a damn good time.

"Oh this is so wonderful!" Rose gasped excitedly. She had never seen such a party, let alone have the chance to experience one. Her inner child clapped excitedly at the thought of what her mother would say if she knew that her daughter had even set foot in such a place. And now that she had, she was not going to waste the opportunity to enjoy it.

"Come on, let's get closer!"

Taking a reluctant Jack by the hand, Rose weaved her way through the crowd towards the band, making her way right to the front of the action. As she clapped along to the rhythm of the music with those around them, smiling with joy, Jack focused on trying to ignore the heavy mixture of scents around him. Too many people all crammed into once space, not to mention the smoke and alcohol, didn't make a very pleasant odour. Cursing his hyper-sensitive senses, he forced himself to focus on the music. Admittedly, the band were rather good. He even found himself enjoying it after a minute, his foot tapping along to the rhythm.

Jack watched the musicians play, intrigued by their instruments. With musical instruments being yet another cultural difference between humans and werewolves, he had rarely seen instruments being played in person before, aside from street performers. And these ones in particular looked very peculiar. Each one raised so many questions in his ever-more-curious mind. How exactly did the fabric sack of the bagpipes turn air into such a strange pitched sound? How did the man with the bodhrán drum in the crook of his arm manage to beat out such a precise rhythm? And who on Earth even came up with the design of the fiddle, with it's unusual handling? Jack supposed that with spending so little time hunting and gathering, humans had much more time on their hands to conjour up such inventions. He had to hand it to them, this was one of their better ones.

Jack was torn away from his thoughts as the hypnotic trance of the music was replaced by a thunder of applause and cheering from all around. The band members took a quick bow, before almost immediately striking up another song.

"Jack, come on, let's dance!" Rose was practically bouncing up and down with happiness, tugging eagerly at his arm. She practically radiated joy, and Jack found himself practically powerless to deny her anything, for fear of snuffing out the golden glow that surrounded her. Forcing his apprehensions deep out of sight into a deep corner of his mind, he followed Rose out into the crowd of people, all of them eagerly striding along to the infectious beat of the music.

Dancing... Yet another human pass time Jack had very little experience of. Moving one's body specifically to a musical beat seemed rather odd, to be honest.

"So do you know the steps to this one?" Jack asked her with a joking smile.

"Not a single one!" Rose laughed as the people around them began to dance, though none of them seemed to be following any specific lead. "I don't think there are any!"

"So we just go with it?" Jack almost had to shout over the music as the two of them linked arms and slowly began to follow the example of those around them, whirling around the dance floor, jumping along to the beat of the drum.

"Just go with it!" Rose shouted back. "Just don't think!"

It was amazing how such simple advice could truly transform one's experience. With all thoughts of logic and decorum tossed carelessly out of their minds, the two of them danced wildly and joyously around the room, scarcely managing to not bump into those around them, not that anyone would have cared if they had; it was as though the whole room was encased in a heavenly bubble in which fun reigned supreme and those inside it were incapable of doing anything other than letting loose and whirl along to the sounds of the Irish.

It had been so long since Jack had felt so carefree and downright joyful that he scarcely recognised the feeling. But oh what a wonderful feeling it was. In that moment, that wonderful moment, he was scarcely aware of the world around them. All that mattered, all that existed, was Rose, and the inexplicable sense of happiness that he felt as they spun around the dance floor together, her flame-red curly breaking free from their constraints and flying around as wildly as the girl who wore them so well.

When the song eventually came to an end, and the dancing began to fade, Jack and Rose both came down from their haze of giddy happiness. Rose steadied herself against Jack, one hand clutched over her corseted chest as she heaved for breath. Damn the wretched contraption.

"That was the most fun I've had in ages!" she gasped, smiling as though she was about to burst.

"Me too" Jack agreed truthfully, equally out of breath. From the far side of the room, he spotted a makeshift bar where drinks were being handed out. "Come on, lets go cool off"

He took Rose by the hand, by now the two of them thinking practically nothing of their informal closeness, and led the way towards the bar.

After years of wandering through cities with shaky supplies of safe drinking water, Jack had learned to enjoy beer, and, after handing Rose a glass, downed several mouthfuls of the cold stuff with relish. His eyes widened with surprise, however, as Rose did not sip her beer daintily as he had expected, but rather took longer, deeper gulps than he had.

"What?" Rose asked as she spotted Jack's surprised look. "You think a first class girl can't drink?"

If only he'd had a chance to shoot back a witty reply before some clearly drunk stranger slammed into them, causing the remainder of Rose's beer to slosh out of the glass and all over her. Far from dampening her mood, however, as it would for most ladies, this only seemed to make her laugh more. Would the wonders of this girl never cease?

"No, no, I'm fine, really!" Rose chuckled as Jack double checked that she was alright. Her attention to the matter lasted very briefly, for it was very quickly, and strangely, turned to the table of men in the middle of an arm wrestling competition nearby.

"So!" Rose called, striding over to the table with, really, far too much confidence for one of her station. Must be the beer, Jack thought. After downing the remainder of his glass so fast, he was feeling a little fuzzy himself.

"You think you're big tough men?" Rose taunted, snatching a cigarette straight from one of the startled men's mouths. "Well then, lets see you do this!"

Oh God. Where was she taking this?

"Jack, hold this for me" Rose commanded, handing him the train of her dress. Jack held the fabric up for her, exchanging bewildered looks with the men around them.

Rose took a deep breath, stood up straight, and began to slowly rise up until she was balanced on the very tips of her toes, like a ballerina. It didn't matter that she came back down with a yelp a few seconds later, her trick was enough to stun everyone around them into applause.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" gasped an old Irishwoman in awe.

"I haven't done that in years!" Rose laughed as she clung onto Jack, giddy with delight.

"Where the hell did you learn to do that?!"

"Lets just call it my party trick" Rose replied with a wink.

She breathed heavily, suddenly feeling very overcome with the excitement of the evening. And the damned corset wasn't helping either.

"God, it's hot in here, isn't it?" she said, fanning herself with her hand.

"Let's go outside, it'll be cooler out there"

As they made their way out onto the deck from a side door, neither of them noticed the stern face of Lovejoy, peering down from the stair entrance, eyes narrowing as he watched them leave.


	9. Hearts Unveiled Under Shooting Stars

It was nearing midnight, and all was calm out on the Atlantic ocean. The light, icy breeze barely made a ripple in the black water, glistening in the moonlight. Even on the decks of the mighty vessel that sliced her way cleanly through the water, all was calm, all was quiet. Silent beauty reigned strong.

Except, however, for one couple who made their way along the otherwise empty First Class deck. Hand in hand they walked, talking and laughing, a drop of glowing joy in the silence of the night.

"Oh really, you can't expect me to believe that you don't know any songs at all! Not even one?!"

"What can I say? Music isn't exactly one of my main interests"

With the beer from the steerage party warming their blood and their moods, Jack and Rose had made their way back up to First Class, slowly and not so surely. Rose had done her best to continue her musical mood, but to her amazement, she had found Jack surprisingly lacking in knowledge of any popular songs, for all his artistic interests.

"But really, even someone who doesn't enjoy music fully will have a favourite song, at least!"

"Well go on then, what's yours?"

"Well, it has a tenancy to change, but I always seem to come back to the Bill Murray record, "Come Josephine In My Flying Machine". It's the jewel of my record collection"

Jack decided not to embarrass himself by asking what a record was. It was bad enough that he had had to endure Rose's shock at discovering how little he knew about music.

"Is it really that good then?" he asked. "How does it go?"

If Rose hadn't been so giddy with happiness, she'd have been far too self-conscious to sing, but right here on the empty deck with Jack, she couldn't have felt more at ease. She began to sing the lyrics, only slightly aware that her tone was less than perfect.

"Oh I just love that song" she said once she'd tailed off after signing the chorus, embarrassed giggles halting her singing. "There's something about it that sounds so happy. I think it's the thought of flying off into the sky, high as a bird, free as the wind"

"Yeah that does sound pretty nice actually" Jack agreed. He rather wished he could hear this song for real, now. His limited experience of music had so far been very enjoyable, and now he was keen to expand it. "How does it go again?"

As they strolled up the deck together, they sang together, out of tune and out of sync, Rose slowing down to allow Jack to attempt to remember the words and filling the gaps with laughter as he tried to sing with her.

"...Balance yourself like a bird on a beam in the air she goes, there she goes! Up, up, a little bit higher, oh, my! The moon is on fire..."

Rose's voice sank at the same time as her heart in her chest, as at long last, they reached the First Class entrance. She stared up at the illuminated sign and sighed.

"I don't want to go back" she said to Jack, unable to hide the obvious disappointment in her voice. "Not yet"

She turned her back on the sounds of the orchestra leaking out into the night from inside the entrance and strode over to the side of the deck to gaze out at the seemingly endless ocean. If it weren't for the speckles of stars in the sky, there would have been no telling where the water ended and the sky began.

Rose gazed up at the glowing sky, her eyes wide with wonder.

"It's all so vast, and endless..." she sighed with a longing smile. "Looking up at the stars like this.. it just goes to prove it, doesn't it? We're not even a speck of dust in God's eye"

Jack stared up at the stars, taking in their beauty. He had always loved the stars. Rose had spoken his thoughts almost identically. Their infinite vastness truly had the power to make one feel so tiny. The stars had always been special to his kind; their mysticism and almost magical wonder had been almost sacred to werewolves throughout the ages. Wolves had told stories of the stars, and what, and who, lies among them, for generations. Jack could recall many memories of nights spend gazing up at the stars, pointing out constellations and telling their stories. He sighed in contentment now, allowing memories of happier times to warm him against the midnight Atlantic chill.

"Look! A shooting star!" Rose suddenly pointed up at the sky, and sure enough, there it was. A shining streak tearing across the diamond-speckled blanket, fading away almost as quick as it had come. A second of beauty, gone in less than a blink of an eye.

"Woah... that was a long one" said Jack, staring up at the spot where it had been.

"That was so beautiful..." Rose breathed. "So magical"

"They're special, the shooting stars, you know. Wolves believe that a shooting star is a soul going to heaven"

"Wolves?"

Jack could have kicked himself. In a moment, the peaceful bliss was broken, and he was panicking inside. He'd been so stupid, allowed himself to become too relaxed around Rose. He hadn't even realised what he was saying!

"Erm, werewolves. That's a thing they believe. Ah, used to believe, I mean. Or so I heard. Where I'm from, it's close to a pack of wolves. Was"

Jack was aware he was speaking far too fast, barely thinking through his sentences as he desperately attempted to play it cool and at the same time frantically dig himself out of the sticky situation. To his amazement, Rose did not look at him with concern, curiosity or distrust. She looked sad.

Rose stared down at the water beneath them and sighed.

"It was a terrible crime"

Her words were quiet. So quiet that Jack would have had to ask her to repeat them, if his hearing weren't so strong.

"I know I shouldn't say such things" Rose continued, her eyes fixated on the glistening blackness below. "I'd be outcasted for speaking in favour of them, even when they're all dead. It'd be social suicide to argue against the killing in public. I never did meet a werewolf; there weren't any in Philadelphia, at least, not after I was born. I've only heard the stories. But even then, all those stories, painting them as heartless animals, that can't be the whole picture, can it? There are plenty of evil humans in the world, but no one tars them with the same brush?I'm being ridiculous, I know, but I just... I can't understand how it can be right. How can it be right to kill so many people? They were different from us, I know, but... they were still people!"

Jack could scarcely believe what he was hearing. Rose's words, embroidered with heavy emotions that had clearly been hoarded inside her for a long time, contradicted everything he'd ever known and believed about humans. She thought it was wrong.

Jack was too stunned to reply. But when Rose looked up at him, and saw his shocked expression, she could only assume that her opinions had not been met positively. Rose wanted to slap herself. Here they were, enjoying a lovely fun evening together, and she had to go and ruin everything with her ridiculous views.

"I'm sorry, Jack" she said, her head bowed as she turned away from him towards the doorway that awaited her. "I'm sorry, I... I shouldn't have said anything. It was stupid of me"

"No"

Finally grabbing hold of his senses, Jack reached out a hand to gently grab her arm. "Rose, please, don't go. You're not stupid, you're the complete opposite, in fact. It's just, I... I guess I've never heard anyone say that out loud"

Rose let out a sarcastic chuckle.

"Well, how could you have, when the whole world is too stupid or frightened to speak the truth?"

"It's a crazy world" Jack replied with a shrug.

"It's a cruel word" said Rose in dismay.

In the awkward pause that followed, the two pairs of eyes danced around each other, the crystal blue and the emerald green teasingly avoiding locking gaze with each other.

As if by fate, their attentions were grabbed by the sight of a second star, making it's way gracefully across the night sky.

"There's another one" Jack remarked, staring upwards.

"I was told you were supposed to wish on it" said Rose, a hint of her former smile returning at last.

"Why?" Jack asked, looking down at her. "What would you wish for?"

Rose looked up, and her eyes finally surrendered themselves to the direct gaze of Jack's own. Something inside her seized hold for a moment, and Rose found herself unable, or unwilling, to speak her heart's reply.

"Something I can't have" she replied instead, much to her desire's disappointment. "Goodnight, Jack" she said finally, forcing herself to walk away, back into her guilded cage once more.

Jack watched her go, overwhelmed by the revelations the night had brought him.

For the lion's share of that night, Jack paced around the decks of the ship, undisturbed for once. The tension inside him was building, the aches in his bones rising, the desire to shift again growing. These were all things that Jack had forced himself to learn to control, but here and now, it was proving especially difficult. The weight on his heart and conscience were too heavy to bare.

Jack could no longer deny to himself the desire that he felt for Rose, burning inside him like a raging forest fire. She was beautiful, funny, intelligent, the flowery aroma that surrounded her was downright addictive. And now, the final piece in the jigsaw puzzle of his heart: She was trustworthy. She was merciful, true, and open-minded. She had not allowed herself to be consumed by the evil thoughts that surrounded her. Jack had seen the raw emotion pouring out into her words as she had condemned the killing of his people; what she spoke was no lie.

In Jack's heart, he found himself believing something he had sworn his whole life that he never would. He trusted a human. He trusted Rose. And if she had opened her heart to him tonight, she deserved to have that trust repaid in full.

Jack's decision was final.

Tomorrow, he would reveal the truth to Rose.


	10. Trust Unlocks the Truth Within

It took all of Rose's efforts not to yawn constantly all the way through breakfast with Cal the next day. By the time she had slipped into the stateroom, her mother and Cal had already turned in, and only poor Trudy was awake, anxiously awaiting her return.

But even once she was in bed, Rose just couldn't seem to sleep properly. Her mind refused to rest, and her slumber was plagued with thoughts and feelings bickering between one another inside her head. She'd had more fun that night than she had in months. Years, even. So why couldn't she rest happily? The simple answer, of course, was Jack. There was something about him that made her feel so... at ease. So content. So happy. No matter how much her mind told her to stop this absurdity, she just couldn't let the feelings go.

Now, sitting out on the promenade over a lavish breakfast with her stern-faced fiance, Rose still couldn't quieten the warring thoughts in her head. And her absent-mindedness and discrete yawns did not escape Cal's notice.

"I had hoped you might come to me last night" he said plainly as Rose fidgeted about stirring her coffee for longer than necessary.

"I was tired" Rose replied with a polite shrug. In fairness, she wasn't lying.

"Indeed. Your exertions below decks were no doubt exhausting" Cal replied sarcastically, his accusing black eyes boring into Rose, whose slight smile hardened into a stony expression.

Lovejoy. It wasn't the first time Cal had sent his God-awful valet to shadow Rose's movements and report back to him.

"I see you had that undertaker of a manservant follow me, how typical" Rose replied, forcing her voice to remain calm and neutral.

"You will never behave like that again, Rose" said Cal firmly. "Do you understand?"

If Rose hadn't been quite so sleep-deprived, she was sure she would have snapped at him rudely. But this morning, all she could manage was a quiet disagreement. She loathed being told what to do like a disobedient child.

"I'm not a foreman in one of your mills that you can command" she replied, setting down her coffee. "I am your fiance"

Anger overtook Cal before he was even fully aware of his actions. He could excuse a bit of wilful behaviour, but he would not be disobeyed and cheeked by his own wife.

"My fiance?!" he roared, raising to his feet as fast as the rage inside him. "Yes you are, and my wife!"

In one swipe, the breakfast table and everything on it was sent crashing across the deck, leaving Rose stunned into a frightened silence as Cal leaned over her, close enough to leave her nowhere to look but straight into his cold, coal-coloured eyes.

"My wife in practice, if not yet by law, and so you WILL honour me" Cal sneered into the frightened girl's face. "You will honour me the way a wife is required to honour a husband. I will not be made a fool of, Rose. Is this in any way unclear?"

Rose was too frightened to do anything other than shake her head in reply.

"Good" said Cal, his voice calm again. "Excuse me"

And with that, he strolled from the deck back into the sitting room, as though he hadn't just trashed the place in a fit of rage, leaving a traumatised Rose frozen to her seat in shock.

Rose wanted nothing more than to crawl back into the safety of her bed and simply cry herself to sleep, but alas, it was Sunday, and there was a church service to attend, followed by a guided tour of the ship.

She winced in discomfort as Trudy tightened the laces on her corset. At least her sympathetic maid was gentle when tugging on the blasted thing. This, however, was a luxury she was to be denied today.

"Tea, Trudy" barked Ruth as she entered the room, firmly dismissing the girl, who hurried to her task with a curtsy.

Rose turned to look at her mother, who stood stiffly with a stern face. It was a face Rose was well-accustomed to. It was the one Ruth wore when a lecture was due. No doubt her mother had been told all about Rose's little adventure last night. Rose gasped as her mother tugged harshly on the corset strings, forcing the breath out of her.

"You are not to see that boy again, do you understand me?" said Ruth, quietly but firmly. Years of practice had taught her that her daughter was not to be debated with. Where there was room for an argument, she would rise to the challenge. She had to be told outright.

"Rose?" snapped Ruth, with another unapologetic pull on the corset strings. "Do you hear me? I forbid it!"

"Oh stop it, Mother" Rose replied with a sigh. "You'll give yourself a nosebleed"

She was caught off-guard when Ruth spun her round by the shoulder to look directly at her.

"This is not a game" Ruth hissed. "What do you think you're playing at, acting like such a silly little fool? You know how precarious our situation is! You know the money's gone!"

"Oh course I know it's gone!" Rose snapped back, quietly. Their financial situation, although a widespread rumour, was a taboo topic, never to be discussed around prying ears. "How can I forget? Every day you remind me"

"Because you always seem to need reminding! You have one simple task, Rose. Behave properly, and secure this match with Hockley. It's a fine match! Certainly the best we can hope to expect, given our reputation. It's the only way to ensure our survival"

"How can you put such a weight on me?" Rose snapped at her mother. It angered her how Ruth was so comfortable with putting the weight of their entire existence entirely onto her, going so far as to sell her to the highest bidder.

"Because that's the way life is, Rose" Ruth snapped back harshly. "In this life, you have one task. Marry a suitable man and ensure your family's survival. I know it's not always easy, a woman's choices never are. But nevertheless, this is the way things are. I married the man I was told to when I was your age, and so will you. Now, turn around"

And with that, the conversation was quite firmly closed, and the torture of corset-tightening continued. With every tuck that encased her body, Rose heard the clang of a jail door closing. It was far more than just her lungs that were stifled.

Jack had to admit, he was quite surprised at how easy it was to slip back into First Class. The ship seemed very quiet. Less passengers, and even less officers roamed the decks and policed the gates. He found his way back to the grand staircase again pretty easily, but there, he was stuck. How was he going to find the way to Rose's room? He didn't even have her room number... He sniffed the air cautiously, attempting to filer out the mixed scents of champagne, floor polish and leftover expensive breakfast food, in search of Rose's wonderful aroma. Alas, he couldn't seem to trace it.

His ears suddenly picked up music, again. He seemed to have developed a liking to music, he realised. But this wasn't a string orchestra, nor a jumpy Irish band. This was a piano... and singing. Of course, Jack realised. It was Sunday. The day in which humans gathered to sing and pray. With the number of voice he could hear and the lack of people in the hallways, Jack guessed his best bet was to follow the music.

Finding the room where the service was being held was pretty easy. Getting in, however, was not. The doormen took one look at him, in his obviously lower class clothes, and held him back from entering the room.

"Come on, I was just here last night, you don't remember me?" Jack tried to reason with the man, but he was sure he'd have more success talking to a brick wall. Just as he was being ordered to turn around and leave, the door suddenly opened, and out came the stern, silver-haired figure of Lovejoy.

Jack fought not to react as the harsh scent of charred wood invaded his nose. A failing task, but a slight, second-long grimace didn't seem to be too noticeable.

"Ah, Mr Dawson" Lovejoy's voice feigned friendliness that fooled absolutely no one. "Mr Hockley and Mrs DeWitt Buckator continue to be appreciative of your assistance. They asked me to give you this in gratitude"

The man held out a twenty dollar note, which Jack brushed aside without a thought.

"Look, I don't want you money, I just need to speak to-"

"And also to remind you that as a Third Class passenger your presence here is no longer appropriate"

"Please I just need to speak to Rose for a second" Jack could see he was fighting a losing battle. It was pretty obvious that forcing his way into the service wouldn't get him what he wanted, and so he didn't resist as the doormen firmly led him away back to Third Class. Nonetheless, he had never been one to give up easily, and even as he was sent back beyond the Third Class gates, he was plotting his next move.

Truth be told, Rose couldn't have given two hoots about how many exercise devices the Titanic had on board, or how she had the first heated swimming pool on sea. But she did find herself curious at the lifeboat numbers. In fact she found herself curious enough to question Mr Andrews, the designer, about their capacity.

"Well Rose, you are to be congratulated on your keen eye and mind" he replied with a charming smile. He was a rarity in this world of stiff upper lipped men. A friendly face. "However, it's really not that big a concern. You are correct, there are only enough for about half the ship's capacity, but not to worry. I have built you a good ship, strong and true. You'll not need her lifeboats. They're more of a formality. Now, our next stop will be the engine room"

And he strode ahead to lead the party, leaving Rose to ponder her thoughts at the back of the group. Or at least, she was pondering, before she was rudely grabbed by a strange man blending in beside a lifeboat. Her startled face whipped round to catch sight of Jack. Before she could recover her senses to speak, he was urgently pulling her back into the gymnasium, an urgent look on his face.

"Jack" Rose sighed, desperately hoping Cal or her mother hand't seen them, for both their sake. "I can't see you, I'm sorry, I... I have to-"

"Rose, please, I needed to talk to you" said Jack, nerves finally beginning to take over as he was confronted with Rose at last.

"No, Jack" Rose repeated firmly. Desperately. "Please, this can't go on. I'm engaged to be married, I can't keep seeing you like this. I'm marrying Cal. I love him"

No matter how hard she tried to make her words sound convincing, one look into Jack's concerned blue eyes told her that her efforts were wasted. As Jack took in Rose's nervous, almost frightened state, he could see immediately just how out of her depth she was. She was like a mistreated dog, cowering in fear of provoking the next hit. Thinking back to how happy she had been last night, the fear in her eyes was painful to see.

"We both know that's not true" he said softly, as thought not to frighten her away. "You don't love him, I can see that pretty clearly. When you're around him all I can see is fear in you"

"It's really not that bad. As long as he's not provoked, Ca; can be alright. But please, you have to go. We're both in danger right now, alone in here. If he sees us together..."

"I can't just leave you" Jack said firmly. "I'm too involved now. I can't just turn away knowing how they have you trapped like this. You think you can handle it now because you're strong, but eventually, he will break you down. I can't just let that happen. I..."

He took a deep breath.

"I care about you too much to just leave you with him"

Rose could feel her heart beating hard, slamming itself against the bars of it's corseted cage. She was lost for words. Jack really cared about her... Did he perhaps feel...?

"There's something I need to tell you" Jack continued slowly, his steady voice masking his nerves. "I need to explain... But not here. I can't here. I need you to come with me to somewhere quieter, more private"

"I can't just leave" Rose finally recovered her ability to speak. "They'll notice I'm gone. They're probably looking for me now!"

"Then make an excuse and meet me again" Jack urged her, his voice laced with desperation that Rose could quite clearly see. He wasn't joking. He was the most serious she had ever seen him. "Meet me at the Third Class gate, please, Rose"

"Alright" Rose agreed with a gentle nod. "I'll meet you there. I promise"

"Thank you"

Several minutes later, and Jack had slipped away unnoticed, leaving Rose to catch up with the tour along the deck. She was greeted by rolled eyes from her mother, and a stern look from Cal.

"Rose, honestly, where have you been?" said Ruth, sighing hopelessly at her daughter.

"I'm sorry, I just had to step inside the gymnasium for a moment" said Rose, her voice breathless, a hand to her forehead. "I suddenly felt very faint. I'm so sorry to spoil your lovely tour, Mr Andrews, but I'm afraid I'm not feeling at all well. I think I may just return to my room and rest a while"

"Of course, Rose" said Mr Andrews, the only one of the party to seem genuinely concerned at her "illness". "Would you like anyone to escort you?"

"No, no, that won't be necessary, I've spoiled your afternoon enough. I'll go alone"

Her excuses made, Rose headed back along the deck. She didn't need to turn around to feel the suspicious gazes of her mother and fiance burning into her back as she walked.

Once out of sight, she quickly hurried back to the entrance where she would meet Jack, glad to see him waiting for her as arranged.

Jack sighed with relief as Rose arrived. He had been worried she wouldn't turn up after all.

"Jack, where are we going?" Rose asked as Jack led the way through the hallways before finally halting next to a plain door blended in with the wall.

"In here" Jack answered, checking that the coast around them was clear before opening the door and leading Rose inside.

It was cooler in here. Dark and cool. With crates piled high amid stacks of cases and netting. It was eerily silent and empty.

"The cargo hold?" Rose asked curiously, hearing her voice echo around her. What on Earth were they doing in here?

Jack walked slowly and silently through the crates until they were deep inside the hold. Deep enough for him to feel safer for what he was about to do. Finally, he turned to face Rose.

"Rose" he began, trying to keep his voice from shaking with nerves. "First of all I need to say this. You're the most amazing, wonderful girl... woman... that I've ever known"

Rose could feel herself blushing as she failed to hold back a girlish smile. So he did feel the same about her!

"You're funny, and kind, and sweet, and..." Jack wasn't sure where to take this. He'd never had to express such feelings before. How does one declare love correctly? Is there even a right way?

"And last night made me realise that you're also trustworthy" he continued after a pause. "This isn't something I've said to anyone in a very long time, Rose. I trust you"

Every word he spoke made Rose's heart leap with joy. But why did Jack look so serious? Shouldn't he be happy?

"I trust you, Rose" Jack repeated, looking her right in the eye, and taking her hand in his own to squeeze lovingly. "Do you trust me?"

Rose nodded silently, her curiosity building.

"Thank you" Jack whispered, before letting her hand drop from his grasp, and taking several steps back from her.

Just as Rose was about to ask what was going on, she found every muscle in her body completely frozen solid with disbelief. She felt all the warmth drain from her body, leaving her skin ice cold and goose-bumped. Shock completely overtook her mind, leaving her unable to produce the shriek that her mouth fell open to unveil.

For where Jack had stood just moments earlier, there now stood a wolf. A golden-furred, blue-eyed wolf, staring back at her intensely.

Rose's stunned mind could feel her body going into an auto-piloted panic. Before she'd even fully registered what she was doing, she had turned away from the wolf before her and ran from the cargo hold as fast as she could stumbling along the way, somehow still unable to scream.

Jack's ears twitched as he heard the harsh slam of the cargo hold door, followed by the deafening silence. Or at least, it would have been silence to anyone else. But all Jack could hear was the sound of his own heart breaking.


	11. Fire and Truth

Rose breathed deep and hard as she ran through the corridors of the ship, her heart thumping hard in her chest. On she ran, unwilling, or unable to stop until she had torn her way through the First Class decks (ignoring the many shocked and surprised stares of the people she passed) and back into her stateroom, slamming the door shut behind her. She leaned against the door for support as she attempted to regain control of her breathing. She felt dizzy, her head swimming with the exhaustion of so much running in the damned corset. But her physical exhaustion was nothing compared to the unbearable weight of her mind as the shock of what she had seen subsided, and her emotions took over.

She had seen a werewolf. A living, breathing member of a species that were supposedly extinct. And not only that, but she had spent almost two days with a werewolf, without even knowing it! Rose didn't know what to feel. What should she feel? Shocked, that there was still at least one wolf left in the world? Scared, that the last of a species that the vast majority of her own considered savage and dangerous was on this very ship? Angry, that the man she had been saved by, had won her friendship, (and had feelings for?) had kept such an enormous secret? It was just all too much.

The emotion that eventually won the battle for supremacy was sadness. Sadness that the man she'd fallen so fast in love with was someone she could now surely never bring herself see again. He would be killed the minute he was discovered, and she would be ruined for the crime of association. Rose felt her torment building inside her, and all too suddenly, out it came, in choked sobs that cascaded from her like an unstoppable flood. Rose clutched her middle as she felt her legs begin to give way under her, and she slid down against the door to sit curled up with her knees to her chest, her head rested in her arms as she sobbed.

"My my, you do seem unwell"

The sharp, sarcastic tone of her mother's voice stung Rose's ears like an unwelcome morning alarm. She lifted her head to see Ruth stood in the doorway to the sitting room, her arms folded across her chest, her face pinched in the disapproving manner that Rose was so accustomed to. Only after several moments of steely silence did Rose remember that she was supposed to have been unwell, barely an hour earlier, but which suddenly felt like a lifetime ago.

Her limbs shaking, Rose forced herself to stand up, furiously wiping away the tears from her face with the edge of her sleeve.

"Mother" Rose greeted, steadying her voice with all her strength. "I was just, ah... I-"

"Oh I know exactly what you were doing" Ruth's icy voice cut off Rose's attempt at an explanation, her lips pursed in a line so thin they all but disappeared. "You were with him, weren't you?"

In her current state, Rose couldn't even attempt to come up with an excuse. She just stared, open-mouthed, as her mother's accusing gaze bore into her.

"I knew it" Ruth's voice had deteriorated to a furious whisper. "I completely forbade it, and still you disobeyed me!"

Rose sighed, raising a hand to massage her temple. Never mind pretending to be ill, she could feel a genuine headache beginning to pound her head now.

"Mother, please, I-"

"No! I don't want any more of your excuses!" Ruth's voice, though still low (Heaven forbid they should be overheard), shook with rage. "For goodness' sake, Rose, you must want us to end up in the gutter! Gallivanting around the ship at all hours, associating with those people. And running off in the middle of the day to see a man, alone! You're not a child anymore, you stupid girl! I'm only thankful your future husband is so understanding-"

"Understanding?!" Rose snapped, her voice raising with the anger inside her. "You think Cal is understanding?!"

Ruth's eyes darted to the doors anxiously, as though imagining the people outside pressing their ears to the walls to listen.

"I don't suppose he told you what happened at breakfast this morning then, did you? He flipped the table across the room, china and all, and then threatened me! That's how understanding he is, Mother. And this is the man you want me to marry?!"

Ruth's face fell slightly at her daughter's words, and anger. Such anger she'd never seen from her before. Nevertheless, of course, this was but a difficult patch, which Rose would have to calm down and get through. Or so she would make her.

"Rose" said Ruth after a deep breath, forcing herself to keep her composure. "I know this isn't easy. Marriage rarely is. But you have got to get your head out of the clouds and stop assuming that marriage is some sort of happy-ever-after fairy tale. I'm sorry, but it's not. I know you don't love Mr Hockley, and I don't expect you to. But what I do expect you to do is to make this match work. As I did, as your grandmother did, as all women do. I'm sure if you simply made yourself more agreeable to Mr Hockley, and less... aggravating, you will get on perfectly well"

Rose could hardly believe what she was hearing. She had just told her mother that the man she was being ordered to marry had violently threatened her, and she was being told to just get on with it.

"I don't believe you" Rose shook her head, staring in disgust at her mother. "Good God, Mother, I knew you were cold but I didn't think you were this heartless! That monster would probably quite happily threaten and hit me every day of our lives together and still you tell me to marry him!"

"Oh do stop being so over dramatic!" Ruth shouted back, her worries of people hearing thrown to the wind. "Marriage is not based on love, Rose. It never is for our sort. It is an alliance. A trade deal. You will marry Mr Hockley, and save this family from ruin, and that is the end of it"

"So my only use in this life is to be sold to the highest bidder" Rose shot back.

"Since you insist on putting it so crudely, and since your useless father couldn't keep us afloat, yes, that is correct"

"Don't bring my father into this!" Rose snapped at her mother, her eyes cold and threatening. She could handle a fight with her mother. She'd never been close to her anyway. But Rose's father, the parent she'd always felt truly loved by before his death, was the key to unravelling her emotions, a card that Ruth would often play in combat to weaken her daughter's argument.

"Why shouldn't I?" Ruth replied, her voice laced with cruel anger. "He's the reason we're in this mess! If he hadn't nearly ruined us we wouldn't even be in this predicament! You should just be damned grateful that Mr Hockley is a better man than he ever was"

"My father was twice the man Cal will ever be!"

"Then why did he ruin us by harbouring a hoard of damned werewolves?!"

Ruth's enraged outburst silenced Rose instantly. She stood there, face to face with her mother, who by now was practically trembling with rage.

"What?"

It was all she could manage to say.

"You heard what I said" Ruth spat back, forcing herself to lower her voice again, her whole body shaking with emotion that had clearly been trapped inside her for far too long.

"For years I've let you go on and on, moaning about losing your poor, beloved father. I should have just told you years ago and have done with it. Well, that oh-so-wonderful father of yours was hiding a family of werewolves in the basement of his office for three months. The damned fool. I'll never forget the day the police came to the house as long as I live. The shame of it. Well, that was that, of course. It was all over. His lawyer may have been able to get him off with a fine, but no self-respecting company would trade with us again, after that. And why would they? Who would want to do business with a man like that? Who hides filthy mutts from the police in his basement. We were ruined, Rose. Overnight. Just like that!"

Ruth forced herself to sit down on the edge of the bed, her back to her daughter, to gather her senses after such an outburst. Such raw emotion was not something she was accustomed to.

Her mother's words swam around Rose's pounding head like the icy water below them. All these years, and she'd had no idea about what her father had done. About why they had been so close to ruin.

"I... I didn't..." she tried to choke out, but found that her words failed her.

"Of course you didn't know" Ruth finished for her, her words calm and composed once more. She sat staring at the wall, unable, or unwilling, to face her daughter. "You didn't need to know. I thought it would be easier to put this family back together again if you weren't weighed down with the knowledge of our shame. And I was right, thankfully. Mr Hockley knew about our past crimes, of course, but you being none-the-wiser made it far easier to work past"

Rose sat down on the opposite edge of the bed, back to back with her mother, neither woman willing to face the other.

"I couldn't believe our luck when Hockley proposed your marriage to me, Rose" Ruth continued, wringing her hands in her lap. "It was truly a blessing to find someone willing to take you, in spite of everything. A match this good will not come around again. That is why I am telling you to make this work"

A heavy silence hung in the air like a muggy winter fog. Rose couldn't think of anything worth saying to her mother. Nothing that would properly convey the utter mess of feelings she felt, nor that would convince her to change her stance. From behind her, she heard the bed springs creak as Ruth got back to her feet, smoothing the creases of her dress as she did so.

"The Countess has invited us both for tea at four" Ruth's tone returned to her prim and proper self once more, as though the confrontation had never happened. "I suggest you clean your face before you come. You look a state"

Footsteps. A door opening. A firm slam shut. And Rose was alone.

Memories raced through her mind in an endless stream. Of evenings spent with her father in front of the fire, being read to from one of his many books. Of weekend outings to the theatre, when he would always spare a few coins for a beggar they passed. Of walks in the park, when he would tell her the importance of kindness in a cruel world. That was her father all over, Rose thought. A drop of kindness in a cruel world. And it had ruined him.

It was a mere month after Rose noticed that he had stopped putting on his suit and hat in the morning to go to the office, that he had first called the doctor to the house. Nothing to worry about, he had assured her. Just a cough. Rose had been both shocked and amazed at how fast "just a cough" had turned into her clutching his cold hand at his bedside as he smiled at her for the last time. As he closed his eyes in the most ordinary of ways. And just like that, he was gone.

Rose had always supposed that it was her father's death that had caused her to become little more than a bargaining chip in her mother's eyes. Of course, with no breadwinner, she would have to marry some money into the family coffers. But she had never in her wildest dreams imagined the truth that Ruth had screamed at her just moments earlier. Rose had always known that her father had been a kind and generous man. But it wasn't until finding out that he had risked the wrath of the law and the ruin of his family to help a family facing persecution that Rose realised just how brave he had been.

The thought rang in her mind as clearly as if he had been there beside her, whispering in her ear. He would want her to be brave, too. He would want her to follow her heart. He would tell her to be with Jack.

Anger fumed inside her once more. But this time, she had only herself to direct it at. She had been so stupid. So weak and stupid. Jack had revealed his secret to her because he trusted her. He said so himself. And she had thrown it back at him and run away. She had betrayed every feeling in her heart that she now knew for sure that she had for him. Rose wiped away a furious tear from her eye, taking a deep breath in.

Rose turned her head to the dressing table across the room, catching site of her tear-stained face in the mirror, her make up smudged across her cheeks. Her mother was right about one thing. She needed to clean up. But not for tea with the Countess. She needed to put things right. She had to find Jack.


	12. A Dream Come True

It was all over, Jack thought to himself as he stared down at the nose of the ship slicing it's way mercilessly through the glistening evening water. The sunset was golden, the ocean shimmering, but it's beauty was entirely lost on him. All he could think of was how badly he had messed up. All those years of carefully guarding his secret, wasted. All this time, he'd never allowed himself to get too close to humans, for this reason exactly. After so long, he'd dared to believe that he'd finally found one he could trust.

Well you were wrong, Jack cursed to himself. Humans are all the same. They'll never accept you. Not even Rose.

It still hurt to think back to the look on her face when he'd shifted. The shock, he'd expected of course. But the fear had hurt. More than he'd thought it could have. And now here he was, alone again, and waiting. Waiting for the inevitable end that would now surely come. No doubt Rose had already told those around her of what she'd seen. They were probably looking for him already. He'd be dead pretty soon no doubt. For when they did find him, Jack didn't intend to fight. What was the point? His true identity had been discovered on a ship, of all places. A speck of safety floating in the vast ocean. Nowhere to run. Maybe there was no point in carrying on trying to survive, anyway. What was the point, when the whole world around you wants you dead?

Sighing to himself, Jack finally allowed himself to look up and appreciate the beauty of the day. Up here at the very front of the ship was truly the best place to be. A vast, empty, glittering ocean, with nothing ahead of him except open air. Tilting his head back as the chilly evening wind whipped through his hair, Jack couldn't help but feel that it felt remarkably similar to the long-ago feeling running through a vast open plain; no obstacles, no distractions, just the pure happiness of sheer freedom, with all the worries of the world far away in the distance. In a way, Jack was grateful to at least experience such a feeling once more, before the end that was surely coming.

"Hello, Jack"

His heart skipped a beat at the sound of the sweet, calm voice he was sure he'd never hear again. He almsot refused to believe it had been real, until he turned around to see her standing there, as beautiful as ever, a nervous smile on her face.

A pause lingered in the air, before Rose took a hesitant step forward, as though seeking permission to continue. She took a deep breath as she approached him, all the while expecting him to turn his back on her. He'd have every right to.

Finally, she was right in front of him, close enough to tough. Her smile faded, leaving behind just nerves. She swallowed nervously.

"I'm sorry, Jack"

Her words washed over him, like salve to a raw wound. Again, Jack could only half believe what he was hearing. Those simple words meant so much, signified so much, that he couldn't think of a worthy reply.

Rose's nerves did nothing but grow as she waited for a reply, that never seemed to come.

"I'm so sorry" she repeated, a hint of desperation beginning to form in her voice. "I shouldn't have.. I mean, I... It was just-"

Jack silenced her with a shush. He didn't need to hear it. She didn't need to try and explain herself. None of that mattered now. All that mattered was that she was here, now. She had come back to him. No words could ever truly explain just how much that meant to him. Words weren't necessary. Actions always speak louder than words. But four words, at least, would do for now.

"Give me your hand"

Rose placed her shaking hand tentatively in Jack's outstretched palm. She felt herself begin to relax just from the light squeeze he gave her hand as he gently pulled her forward towards the very tip of the ship.

"Now close your eyes"

Puzzled, but just so happy to have not been rejected, Rose obeyed. She allowed Jack to guide her forward, until she could feel the bend of the bars against her waist.

"Now step up, onto the railing" came Jack's voice.

Tentitively, Roe raised one of her ridiculously expensively-shod feet to step onto the railing. She wobbled for a moment, and felt Jack's arm tight around her, holding her steady.

"Go on, step up" Jack repeated softly. "Do you trust me?"

The same question she had previously answered with a mere uncertain nod.

"I trust you" she said firmly, more sure of her answer than she had been of anything before.

With Jack's strong grasp around her, Rose felt the sharp breeze rush over her face, against her still-closed eyes. Just as she was about to ask what was going on, she felt Jack's hands envelope her own, and pull her arms away from her waist to spread far apart, as wide as they could go.

"Now, open your eyes" Jack whispered in her ear.

Blinking in protest against the wind, Rose forced her eyes open to behold the absolute beauty of the scene in front of her. The sky, a million shades of pink splashed with the see gold of the setting sun. The sea was made of melted silver, glimmering in the reflections of the vast sky above it. And there was nothing, absolutely nothing else, as far as the eye could see. The Titanic behind them had completely disappeared in the wind that carried them over the horizon.

"I'm flying!" Rose gasped, her voice almost trembling with delight.

Time itself seemed to have disappeared. Neither of them truly knew or cared how long they stayed that way, soaring across the ocean together. If paradise truly existed, they had surely discovered it today, in the warmth of each other's arms.

Rose laughed a little, Jack's breath tickling her ear as he softly sang to her the song she had taught him just last night.

"Come Josephine, in my flying machine, and it's up she goes, up she goes..."

Rose felt as if her heart would burst with happiness. Surely she was dreaming. This utter perfection just couldn't be true.

As Jack slowly pulled her arms back in as he held her tightly from behind, she turned her head to gaze into his eyes, those beautiful eyes she had struggled to tear herself away from last night under the stars. And when he leaned in to kiss her, capturing her lips in a soft embrace of pure, honest love, the feel of his lips against hers assured her that she was not dreaming. This was all real. And it was perfect.

In that moment, Rose knew in her heart that she had made the right decision. For the first time in her life, she had thrown caution to the wind, followed her heart, and given it to someone she knew she could trust to take care of it. The obstacles surrounding them; species, prejudice, class and circumstance, all disappeared. Nothing else in the world mattered, apart from the burning desire that they felt for one another right now. The troubles they would surely face once their flight over the ocean had ended could wait. In this moment, nothing on Earth could come between them.


	13. The Healing Powers of a Perfect Beauty

A wonderful sense of happiness hung in the air between Jack and Rose as they walked back along the deck together. They golden sunset had mellowed to a rich purple dusk, and they had come down from their flight over the ocean together to a reality which neither could quite believe. Here they were, members of two separate worlds, walking hand in hand together, having declared their love for each other after having known each other two days. There was a tinge of awkwardness between them, as though they were just two innocent lovers on a first date, at a loss for words. And at least for now, that was a illusion they could keep.

Every few paces, Rose stole a glance upwards at Jack, quickly averting her gaze when he caught her eye. She felt her heart fluttering inside her; giddy, girlish excitement pulsing through her veins. A feeling she had never had the pleasure of experiencing before. She was engaged to be married, and yet only now had she experienced her first romantic kiss. And the fact that it wasn't with her fiance merely stoked the fire of joyful rebellion flourishing inside her.

The only think Jack was more strongly aware of than his love for Rose was just how nervous he was. He was happier than he thought he had ever been before, just to be walking hand in hand with someone he loved, a human, no less. But at the same time, he had absolutely no idea what to do now. What were you supposed to do after finding someone you love? Jack knew many things; how to stalk, how to hunt, how to survive on a forest full of unidentified flora. But how to be in a romantic relationship was not one of them.

"It's rather chilly" Rose finally said, shivering a little in the twilight breeze.

"Is it?" Jack replied, glad of the small talk to fill the silence. "I hadn't noticed"

"I'm not surprised. That coat looks rather warm. I haven't seen you wear it before"

Ah yes. The coat. Jack had... procured it, whilst sneaking back into the First Class area of the ship. He had felt a little regretful as he quickly swiped it up from where it lay on a deckchair, just meters from it's true owner, but he had told himself he would put it back where he found it on his way back down to Third Class. And he did intend to. But he could see how that may not look too favourably on him from Rose's perspective.

"Sunday coat?" he replied with a shrug. He'd heard somewhere that humans tend to wear nicer clothes on Sundays, for whatever reason that was. He hoped he had heard right. Judging by how quickly Rose accepted his answer, he supposed he had.

"Come on, let's go inside" Rose led him towards the First Class entrance. Jack noted how the stewards didn't give him a second glance in her company. Or maybe it was the coat. Who knew? Who cared?

"Where are we going?" Jack asked as Rose led him through the plush corridors; a seemingly endless maze of polished floors, thick rugs and rich smells.

"To my suite" Rose replied. "It's far too cold to stay outside and I can't be seen with you in the communal areas"

It was frustrating to have to hide away like this, for fear of being seen together, but Rose was so happy in that moment that she didn't think twice about her rooms being a suitable place to spend the evening (or at least a couple of hours, if her predictions were correct). As long as she was with Jack, anywhere was just fine.

"Are you sure that's... alright? Me being here?" Jack asked hesitantly. He didn't fancy running into Cal and his curiously suspicious-looking manservant.

"Well I wouldn't say it's quite proper, but I'm done caring about what's proper and what's not" Rose replied as she un-pocketed a key and unlocked one of the doors at the end of the corridor. That didn't exactly offer Jack much reassurance, but at least the ridiculous grandeur of the room behind the door was something of a distraction.

"This is the sitting room" said Rose, breezily throwing her scarf down onto a chair as though she hadn't just swept Jack into a room that looked fit to be in a palace. The walls were a mess of guilt fastenings on deep red-brown wood, the carpets were so thick that his shoes sunk into them, and the furniture. Oh so much furniture. Tables and cabinets, clearly all expensive, and all with no other purpose than to display things. Why on Earth did humans feel the need to own so many useless things?

Jack noticed that against many of the walls, there were pictures, or rather, paintings. Many large, colourful, some with pictures that seemed to make no real sense. He was completely struck by them and couldn't help but stare; something which Rose was quick to notice.

"I couldn't go to Paris and not bring back some of it's beauty with me, now could I?" she said with a smile, walking over to where Jack had paused in front of one in particular. A landscape of a a crystal-blue pond, dotted with waterlilies.

"That's a Monet" Rose said proudly. Of all of her paintings, this was possibly one of her most treasured. It had been expensive - Cal had sighed and rolled his eyes as he'd handed over his cheque book - but art was one of the few occasions that Rose was happy to have Cal part with his money on her behalf. If he was too stupid to appreciate fine art, he could at least play his part by paying the artist for his effort.

"It's beautiful" Jack sighed as he sank to his knees to be eye-level with the picture, tracing the edges of the lily pads with his hand, marvelling at how the artist had managed to blend the colours together to form such a wonderful picture. "I love this use of colour here"

"I know, it's extraordinary" Rose agreed. It felt wonderful to finally show off her collection to someone who appreciated it. Briefly she wondered if she'd ever get to show Jack her wider collection back home in Philadelphia. Snapping herself back into the reality of their situation, she told herself that it would likely never happen.

Jack stood back up straight, and Rose noticed the slight grimace of discomfort that crossed his face as he did so.

"What is it?" she asked in concern as he stretched his arms behind him, that same look of pain on his face.

"Nothing" Jack replied dismissively, but Rose wouldn't be subdued.

"Tell me" she said softly but persistently.

"It's just I haven't shifted in a while, is all" said Jack uneasily, lowering his voice. He wasn't used to talking about such things. To speak so openly about it felt wrong, even with Rose. "It gets kinda stiff and unnerving when you don't change for too long"

"Unnerving?"

"Yeah, I guess that's how I'd describe it. Like the wolf inside me is impatient to get out" He attempted to laugh at the end of the sentence but his building agitation killed any sense of a joke there could have been.

"But you changed just a few hours ago...?" Rose replied, lowering her voice also. She could tell that Jack wasn't yet comfortable with talking about it with her, but she hoped that she could prove herself trustworthy after her earlier mistakes. The first place to start was to show interest and concern.

"Not long enough" Jack replied, beginning to feel uneasy in this most unfamiliar of environments. Everything smelt so expensive and unnatural. The wall varnish, the matured whiskey in it's crystal bottle across the room, even the expensive oil paint of those beautiful pictures.

"I mean I'm kinda used to not shifting too often, being on the run and all, but it's still not too great a feeling. That's why I draw. The real reason, I mean. It helps. Distracts me from the worst of it"

Rose had a thought. Something that she had wondered about before in a daydream, but now the idea had come back stronger. Perhaps it could help... It was worth a try.

"I have something to show you" Rose announced, leading Jack through a doorway to a second room with a small alcove to one side. Into this alcove she went, to where a hideous green container sat.

"Cal insists on carting this hideous thing everywhere" Rose sighed as she expertly turned the brass dial in a certain way.

"Should we be expecting him anytime soon?" asked Jack, sharpening his senses as he looked around the room.

"No, not for a long while, assuming the cigars and brandy hold out. And if they don't, there'll be hell to pay" Rose chuckled as she opened the door to the safe and retrieved the black jewellery box inside, atop bundles of banknotes.

She brought the box over to Jack and opened it, taking out the necklace within.

"Woah" said Jack in surprise as he caught sight of the blue gem Rose held out, glittering in the lamplight. "What is that?"

"A diamond" Rose sighed. "A very rare diamond" She obviously didn't share Jack's awe for the jewel. Jack held it up to examine, wondering how common these things were to Rose that she didn't think it impressive.

"Y'know, I really don't get why you humans put such a high value on a few shiny rocks, but I'll admit, this one sure is nice" he said, almost unable to take his eyes off of the gleaming heart. If Rose had thought hypnotizing him with such a treasure would help soothe his nerves, her long shot seemed to have not been a total lost cause.

"Jack, I want you to draw me, like one of the French girls in your folder" said Rose. "Wearing this"

Ah, so that was her plan. Jack admired her creative thinking. And appreciated her eagerness to help.

"Wearing only this" she continued.

Jack finally stole his eyes away from the diamond to look at Rose. Her expression was serious. With just a hint of demanding. Clearly this was not just something to take his mind off of shifting. This was something she wanted from him. And something he was only too happy to give.

"Meet me in the sitting room"

Rose's words left no room for argument.

Several minutes of thoughtful pacing later, Jack decided he wanted the patterned couch in the corner for the backdrop of the drawing. Throwing off his braces from his shoulders to ease the ache in his muscles there, he dragged the couch into the centre of the room, facing the chair and sidetable he'd already set up for himself.

Guess this will have to do, he thought to himself as he sat down and opened his folder onto the table. He was just finishing sharpening his charcoal when he heard the bedroom door open, and looked up to see Rose standing there in nothing but a silk kimono, the diamond hanging around her porcelain neck. Jack felt himself blush a little as she twirled the tassel of the kimono with a cheeky grin.

"The last thing I need is another picture of me looking like a porcelain doll" said Rose, her confident voice masking the bucketful of nervous butterflies flittering about her stomach.

"As a paying customer-" she tossed a 10 cent piece into Jack's hand, smiling back as he grinned when he caught it. "-I expect to get what I want"

She stepped back and slowly slipped the robe away from her shoulders, unveiling her body beneath.

The sight of her perfectly sculpted curves and her red hair tumbling freely onto her flawless creamy skin took Jack's breath away. She was perfect. A living work of art.

Rose stood silent, her heart thumping hard inside her chest, awaiting direction.

"Over on, uh, the bed- the couch" Jack cursed himself as the mistake rolled over his tongue. Where the hell did that come from? Oh, never mind. Focus.

Jack directed Rose into the perfect position: laid back on the couch, her arms flayed above her head, as though she had managed to tumble carelessly onto the cushions in the most artistic of ways.

"Okay, now try to stay still" he said once he was happy with the image before him. He took a deep, calming breath, stroked his pencil over the paper for the first time, and dove into the almost hypnotic state of concentration he so craved at that moment.

Jack had told her keep her eyes on him, and that she did. She couldn't tear her eyes away from him. She was transfixed by every detail of him. From the way he furrowed his brow as he concentrated on his pencil strokes to the stands of golden hair that strayed into his eyes as he bowed his head over the paper. She was as fixated on him as he seemed to be on her. And at the same time, as she stared into the eyes of the first man to see her body in all it's natural glory, the pounding of her heart in her chest continued. She was surprised that the diamond resting coldly against the warmth of her skin didn't bounce to the rhythm of the steady drumbeat inside of her.

When at last Jack's work was complete, Rose watched him sign and date the drawing from behind, her head resting on his shoulder. With a quick blow on the paper to remove any excess dust, Jack flipped the folder closed and held it out to her.

"Thank you" he said softly with a smile. He felt so much better now. So much calmer. He'd never known such relief simply from drawing. But then he had never had the privilege of drawing such a truly perfect beauty before. Whatever mystical power Rose possessed that had such an affect on him, Jack was grateful for it.

"No" said Rose, taking hold of the folder and leaning in closer. "Thank you"

The second kiss they shared that night felt every bit as magical as the first. It was a feeling they both hoped would never dim over the course of the many endless kisses that were sure to come.


	14. Divided by Fate, United by Passion

Darling, now you can keep us both locked in your safe. Rose.

She had to fight to control her smirk as her pen graced across the paper, her white-knuckled grip stopping her hand from shaking in nervous determination. Perhaps it was her newfound happiness that had brought on this sudden rebellious urge. Or maybe she was still riding high on the buzz of having posed naked for a man she'd met two days ago. Whatever had brought this urge on, it felt new and exciting, and she loved it.

"What're you doing?" came Jack's voice as he joined her from the sitting room, having put the furniture back in place.

Rose paused and reached for the black case where the diamond now lay once more.

"Will you put this back in the safe for me?" she asked Jack as she handed him the case.

It wasn't that she wanted to hide the fact that she was gleefully rubbing her happiness in her fiance's face. It was more that she didn't want to have to spoil their time together by the very mention of that awful man's name. The less said about him, the better.

Jack couldn't help but sigh at the haul of goods inside the hideous safe. He slid the velvet case into the only vacant space, amongst stacked piles of banknotes and several other cases, perhaps containing similarly-cut rocks of ridiculous value. Human wealth was a strange thing; the fact that possessing a bundle of papers and a few choice shiny stones could send you hurling to the top of the pecking order of life had always seemed completely absurd to him, in fact to most werewolves as a whole. But that was before he had actually seen such treasures. After seeing the Heart of the Ocean, with it's sleek-cut edges and hue of the deepest blue, even he had to admit that it was an item somewhat awesome to behold.

Left alone in the sitting room whilst Rose changed out of her robe, Jack found himself wandering out onto the promenade. He glanced around at the private deck, devoid of life, with it's wooden planks polished to a high sheen and it's ornate deck chairs and tables that had scarcely been used. He cast his mind back to his own cabin down in Third Class; a cramped room shared with three other men. The Third Class dining room; a bare hall with never enough tables and hundreds of people jostling for space.

The sound of the water below crashing against the ship's steel echoed around the vast, empty deck. What a waste of space.

He leaned out of the deck window, relishing the feeling of the chilly night wind that whipped through his hair. He breathed a deep lungful of the salty sea air. It was amazing how well a deep breath of icy fresh air could calm an anxious mind and soothe a body that was aching to shift.

After several minutes he turned, with one last disapproving look around the waste of space that was the promenade, and made his way back inside.

Rose couldn't help but smile to herself as she tied the pink sash of her dress behind her. This was the dress her mother had sighed and muttered over as the sales girl packaged it up. Not for the first time, Rose had completely disregarded her mother's choice in clothing and had picked out the layered white and pink dress, with a bodice of lavender. Rose's favourite colour, and her mother's most detested. Which was precisely why she chose to wear it this evening. In any case, despire her mother's otherwise opinion, Rose thought the dress rather suited her.

The look on Jack's face as she rejoined him in the sitting room was all she needed to see to assure herself that she had made all the right choices that day. It was a look of awe that gave thanks for ever having found a person who could only be described as a work of art. It was a look that had never once overpowered Cal's cold expression when he looked at her.

Indeed, Jack never failed to be enchanted by Rose, whenever he laid eyes on her, and now was no exception. In fact, so taken in was he by her beauty that he didn't even notice the sturdy footsteps marching their way along the corridor outside until they were almost at the door.

"What is it?" Rose asked, noticing his alarmed change of expression.

"Shit... someone's coming. We have to go"

Rose glanced around frantically before grabbing Jack's arm and leading him towards her bedroom, escaping out of sight just as the front stateroom door was opened with a polite but steely call of "Miss Rose?" from Lovejoy. The pair glanced at each other, and their surprise melted into childish excitement at their close shave.

Through the bedroom they silently hurried, where Rose's Sunday clothes lay scattered around the room. They forced their stifled giggles down into mere grins as they wove their way out into the corridor, their hands gripped tightly between them.

"That was close" Rose murmured with a grin as they walked.

"Don't speak too soon" said Jack as he picked up the awful familiar scent of charred wood drifting along with the sound of stomping footsteps. He glanced behind him to see Lovejoy himself in the distance, walking slowly so as not to attract the attention of the various people surrounding them, but with his black eyes narrowed and angry.

Rose suddenly broke into a run, dragging Jack along with her.

"Go!" she shouted, urgent but excited as she hauled him along the corridor towards the lift. The shocked and disapproving faces of the surrounding people meant less than nothing to her.

"Wait, wait!" she called, shoving a lift operator out of the way and slamming the doors shut herself. As the lift slowly descended, and Lovejoy's face, twisted with annoyance began to disappear, Rose stuck her middle finger up at him, collapsing into giggles again as she did so. Jack had seen that gesture before in various pubs and had figured out that it must mean something unpleasant. The fact that Rose seemed to have been dying to offend this desperately dull man for so long assured him beyond doubt that it must be offensive, and he found himself bursting out laughing at the manservant's shocked expression as he disappeared above them.

Down several floors they went, until the grandeur of First Class faded into the stark surroundings of Third Class.

"Where now?" Rose gasped, panting through her laughs.

"Ah... this way, come on!" Their hands still clasped tight together, Jack led them down a flight of stairs, clumsily crashing into a waiter with a food trolley in the process, and through to another seemingly endless corridor. Surely now they were safe.

"God, he's tough, this fella" said Jack as they leaned against the wall, gasping for breath.

"Never mind tough, he's devoid of all amusement" Rose laughed, rolling her eyes. "I think it comes from being a cop for so long"

"A cop?" Jack's joy faded slightly. His love for Rose had not diminished the fact that he distrusted other humans as a rule, and a police officer was the highest predator to fear.

"Yeah, he was a cop for years" Rose continued, oblivious to Jack's alarm. "Cal's father hired him to keep his little boy out of trouble. Well, to make sure he made it home with a full wallet, more like"

Jack couldn't believe his rotten luck when the man himself suddenly appeared in the small window of the door they hid behind, red and sweaty from running, and eyes angrier than ever.

"Oh shit!" he gasped as Lovejoy spotted them.

"Go!" Rose cried, shoving Jack into a run.

Lady Luck seemed to be a tricky mistress this particular evening. On the one hand, the end of the corridor only boasted one escape door. On the other hand, it was a door Jack recognised from his many hours spent wandering the ship. Not the most ideal route but better than nothing.

"Quick, in here!"

He pushed Rose through the door, following behind to slam it shut behind them. All he could give thanks for was that the sliding bolt was on their side of the door.

The noise in the tiny room they now occupied was deafening, even for Rose's ears, never mind Jack's much more sensitive hearing.

"Now what?!" she shouted over the roar of the machinery.

"I guess the only way is down!" Jack shouted back.

Rose looked down at the tiny hole in the floor, with fiery steam and orange embers pouring out of the top. Surely Jack didn't mean they would have to climb down into what looked like Hell itself.

And so, not for the first time that evening, Rose found herself in the midst of what she previously deemed unthinkable. As they charged down the aisle of mighty boilers, tearing past the army of coal-shovellers with looks of shock and amusement etched on their blackened faces, Rose could do nothing but laugh. The fiery steam swept over her skin and scorched her eyes. But with Jack running alongside her, a laughing smile to match her own, she was sure that the flames of Hell itself wouldn't even tickle. With him didn't just feel free. She felt invincible.

Nonetheless she was thankful for the cool, if a little damp, air of the cargo hold they took refuge in after finally finding a door out of the boiler room. She breathed heavily as she glanced around her, and as she came down from the euphoria of the chase, she realised this was the same cargo hold they had been in just hours earlier, where Jack had confessed his secret.

"Do you think we lost him?" she asked Jack, the echo of her voice startling her a little.

"I damn well hope so" Jack laughed, taking her hand in his own once more.

Surely they were safe here. The place was deserted, and very much isolated from the passenger decks, which was why he'd chosen it to risk his shifting in the first place.

"Y'know I've never really looked around this place before" he confessed.

"Well then, let's explore" Rose grinned as they crept around the vast stacks of wooden crates and piles of sacks. They'd almost given up on finding anything of particular interest until finally they discovered the greatest find. A motor car. A shining Renault, red and gold metal gleaming in the faint light of the hold.

"Woah..."

Jack stroked his hand along the shining metal of the car. Even if it's purpose seemed pointless to him, he couldn't deny that the machine itself was a work of art.

"Not bad" Rose remarked with a shrug. "I've seen fancier"

"God, you humans" Jack grinned as he shook his head at her "You create machines that defy the very laws of nature and all you can say is that you've seen better"

"Well it's true" Rose replied, feigning a haughty accent with her nose in the air. "Nonetheless, I suppose it will suffice"

She cleared her throat expectantly as she stood tall and proud in front of the passenger seat.

Realising her game, Jack opened the door for her and held out his hand, as he had seen humans do when they worked with cars. Chauffeurs. Yes, that was their name.

"Thank you" said Rose as she took his hand and stepped up into the car. The car smelt plush and new, it's fine upholstery clearly never having been sat upon by a real passenger. She glanced around at the silk curtained windows, and the single rose in a tiny glass vase upon the wall, and she smiled.

Deciding he may as well have some fun as well, Jack climbed up into the driver's seat, marvelling for a moment at the tools before him that all made the machine work, before sounding the horn.

"Where to, Miss?" he asked in the poshest accent he could muster as the sound of the horn bounded off of the walls around them.

Rose leaned in close to his ear through the front window, and whispered, "To the stars"

She barely allowed Jack time to register her words before she hooked him under the arms and dragged him back through the window, the pair of them laughing anew, and into her arms on the seat.

Their laughs faded as they gazed into each other's eyes, completely absorbed in one another. Their breaths shallowed and their nerves mounted as they simultaneously realised what was to come. Jack forced his hand to steady as their fingers interlaced together nervously.

"Are you sure?" he asked, staring deep into Rose's brilliant green eyes.

"Than I've ever been about anything before" she replied, quiet but firm. She nestled close into Jack's side, relishing the warmth of him in the cold air of the hold, but also finding comfort just from having him close. She brought his hand to her lips and kissed each of his fingers softly, before looking up to drink in the beauty of his face once more.

"Put your hands on me, Jack" she whispered.

He hesitated. His heart pounded in his chest, and he froze. He couldn't even explain why. Was this really happening? Could this all be a dream? He was almost afraid to obey her, for fear that this entire heavenly moment would shatter like glass the moment he touched her flesh.

Taking a deep breath of confidence, Rose gently guided his hand to her breast, leaning up to capture his lips in a hungry kiss of passion. And suddenly, the world around them ceased to exist. There was no car, no hold, no ship, no ocean, no world. Just the two of them, two souls joined together, united in the passion of their love for each other.


	15. Ghosts from the Past

The half-frozen leaves beneath his paws crackled threateningly as Jack stalked his way slowly across the forest floor, sparkling with ice. The leaves in the treetops high above him rustled in the cold, early winter wind. Evening darkness was fast approaching, and still he had not fulfilled his task of securing the night's meal for his pack. Breathing deeply, he forced himself to control his mounting frustration.

Around ten metres in front of him stood a rare prize. A lone deer. A young adult doe, facing away from Jack as she grazed on a small patch of moss beside a tree stump. The winter forest was a place of few luxuries, for all its inhabitants. Jack, however, was determined that tonight would be an exception. He took another tentative step forward, and flinched as a twig snapped beneath his paw. He froze silent and still as the doe's head shot up in alarm, glancing around her for a moment before, mercifully, she returned to her meagre meal. Jack breathed a silent sigh of relief. She hadn't spotted him from where he crouched, thankfully hidden amongst the shrubs. Jack glanced behind him, flashing an uncertain look to where his father stood, far from the deer's sight, watching the hunt.

Samuel Dawson nodded encouragingly to his son, a ray of hazy evening sun trickling through the forest canopy to shimmer across his thick silver fur. He may have passed his crystal blue eyes to his son but physically that was where the similarities ended. At fifteen years old, Jack's wolf form was now just over half-grown, and though still slight and slender, his fur had finally shaken off the last of it's puppy fawn and his coat now shone a deep shade of gold, sleek and shining. It would still be a while before he matched the size and strength of his father, but with what looked to be a harsh winter heading underway, Samuel had decided it was time that Jack learned to hunt alone.

Brimming with all the excited determination of youth to prove himself, Jack had all too happily bounded off deep into the forest that morning, only half listening to his father's calls to slow down and keep quiet. An experienced hunter, Samuel calmly followed his son into the woods via the tracks he left in the snow; footprints fading to paw prints as he'd shifted mid-run. But as the hours wore on, and the mistakes and near-misses continued, Samuel couldn't help but smile in amusement as Jack's excited over-confidence spelled disaster for his hunting technique.

The smallest of errors, the snap of a twig or the rustle of his tail against a bush, would startle whatever raccoon, badger or rabbit he'd been stalking, and his pounces were never quite quick enough to catch them once they'd begun to flee. Frustration quickly turned stealth into brash aggression. Samuel sighed as Jack clawed his way up a tree after a pine marten, growling with frustration. As expected, he slipped on an icy branch and came crashing down, landing in a human heap in the snow at the base of the tree.

"If you keep this up you'll never catch anything" said Samuel as Jack shifted once more and shook the snow off of his fur sulkily. "You need to learn to have patience. When you let yourself get frustrated you'll act rashly and lose the kill. Not only that, but you'll let yourself kill too harshly. We must kill to survive, but we must kill quickly and mercifully. We are not the thoughtless monsters the humans think we are. You must always have respect for your prey. Never forget that"

Jack kept those words in mind as he stalked the oblivious doe. He forced himself to breathe deep and calm as he crept closer, one silent step at a time. At long last, he was within pouncing distance. His eyes narrowed and focused hard on his prey, every muscle tensed in his body, and with one final deep breath, he lunged at the doe. He dug his claws into her as she began to panic. Clinging on to her as she bucked, he quickly grasped her neck in his jaws. As he had practiced so many times on dead prey, he quickly and cleanly twisted her neck her neck until it snapped, killing her cleanly within moments of her awareness to the danger. His teeth didn't even break her skin. A quick, clean death, as she deserved.

Jack practically glowed with pride as he carried his prize across the forest to where his father stood, with an equally proud smile. He'd shifted back to human form; it was too cumbersome, not to mention disrespectful, to drag the body across the forest floor.

"Well done, Jack" Samuel praised his son with a pat on the back as they began the long walk back through the forest, the evening's meal secured at last. "The first hunt is always the hardest, but practice always makes perfect. Tomorrow's hunt will come easier"

Jack was already looking forward to it.

Jack's happiness over his success began to fade as the journey home wore on. They had travelled far from their pack's camp. The sunset sky was fading to twilight, and the hunger in Jack's stomach growled angrily as the weight of his prize began to irritate his arm muscles. The sooner they got the doe roasting, the happier he would be. As they finally approached the edge of the forest, to where the steep downward slope would take them out of the trees and into the clearing where the pack had settled for the last couple of weeks, Samuel began to sense something. A strange smell. Smoke. The smoke of wood fire, so familiar, but mingled with another. This was a smoke that could only have come from one source. One terrible source. A source they had lived in fear of for so long.

He halted his tracks as he heard the voices. Voices that did not belong to any of their fellow pack members. They sounded cold, angry, viscious.

"What is it?" Jack asked curiously, but barely finished his sentence before he was shushed. Samuel focusd on the sounds, as the long-dreaded reality dawned on him. He had to force himself to heed his own advice as he crept forward calmly towards the edge of the trees that overlooked the clearing, forcing down his rising urge to panic. With an arm outstretched to signal Jack to stay back, he walked forward to look upon the sight of his worst fear turned into reality.

The camp in the clearing was a wreck. Destroyed. Their shelters pulled down, their belongings scattered. Several fires burned across the clearing, raging as the flames reduced their home to ashes. But the worst sight of all were the bodies. Twenty or so. Some human form, some wolf. But all flayed across the grass, dead. Among the destruction, men wandered, rifles at arms. Some kicked the bodies to confirm they were dead, others searched for anything of potential value among the debris. Not that they would find anything of value, to a human at least. The men talked and joked, some even laughed. Nauseating comments about the value of a pelt reached Samuel's ears, though he begged himself to disbelieve what he heard. The smell of their gunfire that hung in the air didn't seem to bother the hunters.

Samuel fought to control the dizziness that washed over him as his eyes laid upon the body of his wife in the field below, in a pool of blood seeping from the red stain on her dress, her face obscured by her blonde hair, so like that of which she had passed onto their son. It was at the sight of his dead wife's body that Samuel felt the physical pain of his heart breaking into pieces. He could feel himself descending into a state of shock. However, he was brought back suddenly to awareness by the sound of a loud thump from beside him.

The dead doe dropped from Jack's grasp to the forest floor as he stared down at the clearing, and the dead bodies of their pack. He felt all the warmth from his body drain from him, and he shivered as the horror of the massacre before them set in. His breaths quickened as panic began to rise inside him. He couldn't tear his eyes away. He just couldn't. Suddenly his gaze was forcibly ripped away as Samuel grabbed hold of him and forced him to turn away before he had the time to pick out the body of his mother in the carnage below.

"Don't look" Samuel hissed, his voice low and determined over the slight tremble in his words. He gripped his son hard by his shaking shoulder, ensuring he could not turn around to look again. Jack fought to control his quickening breath as he felt his fear overpowering him.

"Jack, look at me. Look at me!"

Jack forced himself to look up at his father, whose face was such a harsh mixture of suppressed anger and fear mingled with forced bravery that he looked ill.

"We need to go. Now" Samuel said, his voice scarily devoid of the many emotions etched across his face.

"But what if they.. maybe someone-"

"There isn't anyone. They're all gone, Jack. All of them" The words made Samuel feel sick to his stomach as he forced them out. "We need to run"

Jack was too overwhelmed to think of anything to say. He wasn't even sure if he could move, let alone run. He could feel his knees giving way underneath him, but Samuel caught him by the shirt as he began to slump and forced him back to his feet, where he stood desperately trying to control his breathing. Just as Samuel was about to repeat their need to leave, he spotted something in the trees behind Jack. Crouched low in the darkness. A shadow. A figure. A man with a gun.

Every ounce of fear Samuel had felt melted away like winter snow as he watched the figure slowly raise his gun at his oblivious son's back. He tightened his grip on Jack as he looked him straight in the eyes.

"Jack, forget about everything else in the world, right now, and for God's sake, run!"

As the last word roared threateningly from his throat, Samuel Dawson shoved his son aside with all the force he could muster, and lunged at the figure in the trees. His shift to wolf form was timed perfectly with the deafening crack of the gunshot that rang through the trees, scattering the birds from the branches high above.

The fright of the shove and the gunshot shocked Jack into shifting, and he landed on the earth in a heap, his golden-furred body aching and dizzy from the sudden change. The loud bang still ringing in his ears, he twisted his head round as his blurred vision gained focus, to see his father's lifeless silver body in a heap just several metres away from his now-abandoned doe.

He felt sick. He felt dizzy. He wanted to faint. But his father's last words swam through his mind, and almost against his will, he found himself scrambling to his feet. He could think of nothing else but that final word. Run. And so he ran. He took off into the forest, numb to everything except the will to live as his paws thundered against the icy earth. He dodged through the trees as behind him he heard the sound of the gun once more, it's hellish bang following him like the shadow of death itself.

Crack.

Bang.

Jack lifted his head in alarm as he was dragged back to consciousness with the gunshot still ringing in his ears. He looked around him, confused for a moment. Then he looked down at the beautiful woman asleep in his arms, as they lay entwined together in the back seat of the steamy Renault in the Titanic cargo hold.

His stirring woke Rose from the peaceful sleep they had both drifted into from the exhaustion of the euphoria they had experienced on their trip to the stars. But she was concerned. Jack was breathing heavily, and shaking.

"You're trembling" she murmured as their tired eyes met.

Jack swallowed as the trauma of his all-too-familiar nightmare subsided.

"Don't worry" he breathed in reply, smiling slightly. Drinking in the beautiful sight of the woman he loved was the greatest comfort he could have wished for. "I'll be alright"

Rose leaned up to kiss his forehead, noticing that he was still just as warm and sweaty from their lovemaking as she was. She gently coaxed him down to lay his head on her chest. Jack relaxed into the warmth of her body, feeling the steady thump of her heartbeat press against his ear. And he felt safe.


	16. Who Are You?

As Rose lay there on the back seat of the Renault, in a blissful post-euphoric state of relax, with Jack's warm body pressed against her own, all she could think about was how there was nowhere else in the world she would rather be than right here in the cargo hold of this ship in the middle of the ocean. She had always dreaded the thought her her first time being intimate with a man, simply because until today she was certain that man would have to be her fiance. She had thrown off his many advances, each one making her dread the supposedly inevitable occasion even more. Never had she imagined that her first time would turn out to be just as magical and special as it was foretold to be in the many songs and poems she had heard. Never had she allowed herself to believe that it would be with someone she could say she truly loved with all her heart. And never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that her true love would be the sole survivor of a species that the government had proudly declared extinct several years ago. 

She looked down at Jack, who was dozing against her chest again after he had awoken so suddenly a few moments ago. She stroked the stray locks of golden hair off of his forehead, savouring it's touch against her fingertips, as though she couldn't quite believe he was real. In these two short days, Jack had completely captivated her. He had saved her life, convinced her to live, and enthralled her interest ever since. She had spent almost all of the last twenty four hours with him, given herself to him entirely, and yet he still didn't seem real. Rose realised that it was probably because she still didn't truly know him. 

He had told her that he had travelled over America. That he had been to Santa Monica and drawn portraits there. That he had travelled over France and England. And just as she had thought she was getting to know him, he dropped the biggest bombshell that he possibly could have. That he was a werewolf. The last of the wolves. Now, finally, with a moment to think at last, Rose couldn't help but wonder if anything that he'd told her before was true. Did she really know him at all? 

Jack drowsily looked up to see Rose, with her beautiful jade eyes, staring down at him thoughtfully. 

"What is it?" he asked, lifting himself up onto his elbows to meet her gaze. 

"Nothing" Rose sighed slightly. "Just... thinking" 

"About what?"

"You" 

"How interesting" Jack joked with a smile. 

"It is actually" Rose replied, her voice steady. "I guess I was just realising... I mean, after everything you told me, about being a wolf, I don't really know much about you at all" 

Jack reached up a hand to stroke her face tenderly. 

"You know that I love you" he replied, softly but firmly. "More than I've loved anyone in a long time. Therefore you know the most important thing about me" 

It made Rose's heart flutter to hear him say that he loved her, with such conviction. 

"I do know that, and I know in my heart that I love you too, but I can't help but wondering... who are you? I know you're a werewolf, and the only one left in the world, probably, but I that's all I know about you. I want to know the real you. All that stuff you told me about where you come from, where you've been, was that all a lie, to cover your secret?" 

"No" Jack replied softly, realising how right she was. Rose was right to doubt whether anything he'd told her was true, after revealing such a huge secret about himself. She had given herself to him completely, without truly knowing him. She deserved to know everything. Jack pushed himself up into a sitting position, and gently coaxed Rose to move down the seat to lean back against him, her head on his shoulder, his fingers combing out the tangles of their lovemaking. Once settled, he began to talk at last.

"That was all true... pretty much. I did travel to all those places. And I do come from Wisconsin, but not Chippewa Falls. Well, that was the closest town, at least. My pack, we didn't really settle in one particular place for too long. It's safer not to stay put. If a pack stayed in one place for more than two or three weeks, the humans would get edgy and worried, as though we were planning to attack them or something. I don't know much about other packs but my own always tried to avoid humans at all costs, so I don't get why they were so suspicious of us"

"I never really understood why there was so much hate against the werewolves" said Rose, absent-mindedly intertwining her fingers with Jack's. "I remember asking my tutor once, why they were all being killed, and he said it was because they were dangerous animals who would kill us first if we didn't kill them" 

"Yeah, right" Jack scoffed in reply. "That's why we were the ones constantly having to move around the land to prevent being attacked. I asked my father once why the humans hated us so much. He said that it's because we were different. And that they didn't trust what the didn't understand"

Rose paused before asking the question burning inside her. Would he want to tell her? Would he hate her for prying into something that was most-likely painful? 

"What happened to them?" she asked, her voice low and hesitant. There was a slight pause between them, just enough for Rose to curse herself for asking before Jack finally replied. 

"They were killed" he said, matter-of-factly. "When I was fifteen. I think they were people from the local town. A couple of them had uniforms, I think" 

"Police" Rose breathed, her voice laced with hatred. There had once existed a branch of every police force in the country dedicated to helping local people in the slaying of the wolves. Some did it out of duty. Some did it out of hatred. Some even did it out of the joy of the hunt. The few sights she had seen of them had always sickened her. 

"I guess so. I didn't hang around too long to get a proper look at any of them. The only reason they didn't get me was because I was away in the forest that day with my father. But there was one in the trees close by. I think he was aimed at me. My father pushed me out of the way. He told me to run. And then he was dead. So I ran. It was the weirdest feeling. Once I was running it's like I couldn't stop. I just kept on running, for miles"   
Jack felt something inside him change as he spoke. This was the first time he had been able to truly open up to anyone about what had happened to him and his family. To finally speak the words was like freeing a bird from a cramped cage and letting it fly free at long last. He felt a weight lift from his chest as he shared his story with Rose. 

Rose turned round in his arms to face him, to gaze once more into the brilliant blue eyes that never failed to captivate her each and every time she did so. In those eyes she saw pain. Old, faded pain, that had been bottled up for far too long and left to spoil. But she also saw love. The same love that always seemed to magically appear whenever those eyes were locked with her own, as though her emerald gaze were the lone key to unlock such love. 

Jack stroked his hand along Rose's cheek once more, cupping her beautiful face with his palm, which fit there as perfectly as though they were moulded for each other. As he gazed at her, her angelic features laced with sadness mingled with adoration, he found he barely had control over the words that he spoke, words which flowed straight from his heart.

"I don't want to run anymore"

Rose was fighting to hold back tears of fury. With her cossetted life inside the enclosed world of Philadelphia high society, she had never been exposed to anything more than news reports or dinner party discussions about the systematic slaughter of the werewolves. She had always disapproved, but she had never heard a true story about what it was really like. 

Now, as she looked into the face of the man she loved, she could see all the emotional scars of a story that was nothing but truth, of a life lived in constant solitude and sadness. And she realised just how much it could hurt to see the pain of the person your soul was meant for.   
Rose threw her arms around Jack's neck, and felt his arms wrap around her in response. They held each other as tight as they could, as though their lives depended on it. 

"You don't have to" she murmured into his shoulder. "You're not alone anymore. You'll never be alone again. I promise"

Rose's words bled into Jack's heart, like a soothing salve for the soul. He had waited so long to hear such loving words that he had begun to believe that he never would. To hear them now at last was far more valuable than all the precious jewels in the world. 

Neither of them knew how long it was that they spent together, embraced in the back of the car, but eventually they both had to realise that their time here had better come to an end. It was sure to be past dinner time. Rose's absence would have been noted. Cal would surely have someone out looking for her by now, and though the cargo hold was a good hiding place, it was probably best not to stay still for too long. 

Once they'd both reluctantly dressed and made their way out of the car and into the chilly air of the hold, Rose finally gave in to her urge to ask one last question. 

"Jack. There's one more thing I wanted to ask"

"Sure, anything" 

"Can I... can I see it? I mean, you? Again?"

"You mean as a wolf?" 

"Yes" 

Rose hoped she sounded more confident than she felt. 

"It's just that I still feel so awful about the last time... when I ran off. You've told me about the real you. I want to properly see the real you"  
With a tender smile, Jack nodded. 

"Alright" 

Rose closed her eyes and breathed a deep breath, in and out. And when she opened her eyes, as before, there stood before her a golden wolf, sleek and handsome. 

She gazed at the creature before her, wonder struck. This was a creature that had been relegated to a mere fantasy from a story to her; never before had she seen a wolf in person. And to see one now, the very last one, that happened to be the man she loved, was truly magical.

Rose slowly sunk to her knees before the wolf, and reached out her arm. He did not move as her touch neared. She rested her palm atop the gold fur, marvelling at how soft and deep it was. She glanced upwards, and once again, like a magnet to steel, her gaze locked on to the crystal blue eyes; those exact same eyes. Jack's beautiful eyes. 

Instinctively, without a second thought, she slowly leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, embracing him tightly. She felt his head rest onto her shoulder, nuzzling her hair softly. There they stayed, in a moment that felt endless, locked together once more as one. 

So intertwined were their bodies, their minds, their souls, that neither of them, not even Jack, with his sharp hearing and sense of smell, had noticed the shadowy figure of Spicer Lovejoy lurking in the far-off doorway of the cargo hold. Distant, but not too distant to have seen everything he needed to see. And for his worst suspicions to be confirmed.


	17. Vengeance is a Dish Best Served Lethal

For as long as he could remember, Spicer Lovejoy had hated wolves. He came from an old family with a proud history of wolf-hunters. His ancestors had been key players in the fight against wolves in England, that had led to the happy days of their extinction in the land several hundred years ago. He had always been taught to be proud of his heritage of freeing England of these evil beings who were nothing more than a plague on the land that could be put to much better use once they were out of the way.

This pride had always driven him to want to someday move to America, where a movement was finally stirring to wipe out their native werewolf population once and for all. He hungered for a slice of the glory that the fight against wolves had brought the Lovejoy name, and with no native werewolves left in England, America was the land of opportunity. But it wasn't until he was 18 that the cause became not just a sense of duty, but one of justice.

It had been a long night at the pub on the edge of East London for the Lovejoy brothers; Spicer himself, the younger, and Royson, two years his senior. It was an occasion of celebration and farewell. Tomorrow morning they would finally be setting off to America to carry out their task of securing glory for the next generation of Lovejoys. Together they drank and smoked, and talked excitedly of their impending adventure.

Across the bar, set apart from their crowd of friends, there had sat a pair of men, alone. They had been a shifty looking pair, about the same age as the Lovejoys; they didn't laugh along with the rest of the pub as Royson bragged of the success he was going to make in the hunting ground that was America. They didn't jeer along as the rest of the crowd swapped complaints and insults about the awful creatures. In fact they eventually got up and left, silently, with grave looks that suggested perhaps they even disagreed with the talk surrounding them.

"Weird blokes" Royson scoffed as he took another swig of his beer.

The two Lovejoys didn't give the two men another thought. They finished their drinks, had another, or two, and eventually went on their way, slowly and staggering. The night was dark and cool, with just the thinnest slither of moon. The brothers took a shortcut home down what was known to be a bit of a dodgy alleyway, but would cut a decent chunk off of their travelling time.

The alley was long and shrouded in inky-black darkness; no one had bothered to put up gaslights here. On the Lovejoys walked, shoving into one another every so often in their drink-addled states. Just as they reached what was about the middle of the alley, Royson suddenly crashed into something in front of him.

A yelp came out of the darkness. He'd bumped into someone. The alleyway was known to harbour tramps sometimes.

"Here, watch it" Royson barked at the darkness, the silhouette of the person barely noticeable. He was met with silence from the shadows. Royson fumbled in his coat pocket for his matches and clumsily struck one to reveal the person.

The brothers recognised not one, but the two peculiar men who had sat at the bar in the pub not long ago. Their faces were grave and untrusting, their eyes tired. Spicer supposed they had been planning to sleep here.

"Oh God it's you weirdos" Royson chuckled, nudging his brother beside him. "Here, it's them weird'uns again!"

"Just go" one of the brothers said plainly, with an accent. American. Strange round these parts of London.

"Ah come on, lighten up" Royson barked back with another chortle, leaning forward to shove the man. In a sober state it would have been a friendly nudge, but with a brain full of booze he knocked into the off-guard American, sending him stumbling back into his companion.

"We said go!" the second man hissed, his voice attempting to be threatening, but with a clear undertone of fear. He breathed deeply, his fists clenched tight.

Royson's smile sunk in the match light.

"Like fuck we will" he snapped.

Spicer laid a hand on his brother's arm.

"Come on, let's just keep going" he said. Even after a few drinks the younger Lovejoy was always more rational than the elder.

Royson shook off his grip. He wasn't going to let these two weirdos tell him what to do.

"Nah, I reckon these yanks are a bit too cocky, thinking they own the bloody place. This ain't your alley and I'll walk where I bloody well want, thanks"

Royson shoved his way past the two Americans, deliberately knocking into them as hard as possible, chortling as he swiped up his leg to hook around one of the men's legs in an attempt to knock him over.

His attempt never succeeded.

It all happened so fast. A split second. Royson hadn't had the time to hook his foot around the man's leg before it suddenly wasn't there anymore.

It's amazing how many things can happen all in the same second. The match went out, and from the darkness came the sounds. A yelp, a scream, a snarl, a thump. Spicer's eyes had just enough time to adjust to the darkness to make out the shape of his brother on the floor before his silhouette was pounced on by another. Suddenly he himself was being set upon. He felt teeth, claws, fur. 

The men were werewolves, he realised too late.

In the deafening sea of sounds, the roars of his brother, the snarls of the wolves, the scrape of the stone, Spicer slammed himself against the wall of the alleyway in a desperate attempt to throw off his attacker, who was furiously mauling him by the shoulder, desperately attempting to tear into his fresh through his thankfully thick clothes in pure blind fury. Spicer would later recall, from his werewolf studies, that the rage was probably the bottled tension of not having shifted in a long time boiling over. But there was no time to think of explanations as Spicer wrestled blindly against the snarling wolf that clung to him in a death grip. Eventually he dislodged the beast just enough to reach inside his jacket for the revolver he kept on him at all times.

Roaring through the pain of the wolf's attack, he blindly shoved the gun into the first clump of fur he could find and fired.

An anguish-filled whine echoed through the night air as the claws in his skin grew slack at last and the wolf fell to the damp cobbles with a thump. Spicer fired again at the lump at his feet before fixing his eyes on the blackened shape of his brother and the second wolf, still duelling viciously. He threw himself forward into the scrap, and again, shoved the gun into the fur of the wolf and fired. He fired twice. He roared as he shot the wolf dead.

Finally, silence.

The smell of gun smoke hung thick in the crisp night air. All Spicer could hear was the sound of his own heavy breath and the beating of his heart in his throat.

"The bastards" he finally growled out in fury.

"It's done, I got them" he called to his brother in the night.

No reply.

"Oi, I said I got them. The beasts are dead" Spicer repeated, glancing in the direction of the darkened shape on the floor that had been revealed as the wolf collapsed off of it.

Still no reply.

"For fuck's sake"

He nudged his brother, and was surprised when his foot made contact with what felt like a lifeless lump.

With his own hands shaking as much as his drunken brother's had, Spicer reached into his jacket to pull out his own matches. A bit of light would probably be a good idea.

In the glint of the firelight, Spicer made out the shapes of the two dead wolves on the cobbles and smirked. His first kills. Royson would be jealous. He'd wanted to be the first, being the eldest. Spicer turned the light on where his brother lay.

For a moment he was sure he was seeing things. His brain was taking a moment to catch up. Because the lifeless human on the floor beside the wolves could not be his brother. His brother was strong, he was a fighter. He wouldn't have been defeated.

"Come on, get the hell up" Spicer snapped, nudging Royson with his foot.

Any second now. He would get up. He would respond. Choke out a laugh and stagger to his feet.

"Get up" Spicer repeated, nudging harder.

"Get up!" he shouted furiously, dropping the match in his anger. His brother's head jerked up from the impact, thumping down again in a splash of blood. His own blood.

Realisation washed over him, further stirring the fury inside him. Royson wasn't getting up. He had been defeated. His brother was dead.

Spicer roared, swore, screamed, beat his fists into the cobbles, his foot into the corpse of one of the wolves. He went wild with grief. He didn't even hear the crack of the thunder, nor feel the rain coming down from above.

Daybreak a few hours later saw Spicer still leaning with his head on his arms against the wall of the alleyway, at his feet the bodies of the wolves and his brother, staring deep into the brickwork, his eyes sharp as daggers, his heart burning. He had not cried. He would not waste time on tears.

When at last he straightened up and set off to complete the journey to the other end of the alleyway, his steps were calm and composed, each an automatic copy of the last. His eyes fixed forward, his gun gripped tight in a white-knuckled grasp.

In all respects but one, he was numb. He felt nothing. Nothing besides his goal.

At the end of the alleyway, he paused. He could turn left for home, or right for the docks, where a ship lay waiting. The ship that his brother Royson had bragged so loudly about boarding in the morning. His brother that now lay dead, savagely killed by two of the species that they had pledged to wipe out.

Spicer turned right for the docks. He would board that ship as planned. He would go to America and continue his work. He would fulfil his duty and avenge his brother's murder. As long as he lived, he would strive for nothing but the extinction of the cruel beasts that were the werewolves.

Thirty-five years, and a glowing career later, and his life's work had been complete. Spicer Lovejoy had done his duty. His years of dedication and service to the American government had earned him the respect and honour worthy of his family name. He had taken part in endless successful werewolf raids right across the country. As a result, the wolves were at long last extinct in America.

As he began to age, and his body began to slow, he retired from his life as a hunter, with his life's work now complete. Several years into a comfortable retirement, he received a letter of invitation from one Nathan Hockley, a wealthy steel tycoon from Pittsburgh. Lovejoy may have heard the name before somewhere. The letter informed him that his son and heir, Caledon, was soon to be undertaking a tour of Europe with his fiancee and her mother. Known for his reckless bachelor ways, Hockley had understandably not liked the idea of his heir being an ocean away and uncontrollable. No doubt he would have gambled away his money and be in a gutter without his wallet or dignity before they'd even reached Paris. In conclusion, the letter invited him to take up an absurdly well-paid position as bodyguard for the duration of the tour, which would conclude with a trip back to America on the Titanic for her maiden voyage.

Lovejoy thought the position sounded pretty decent. He'd missed Europe, particularly London. It would do him good to get away from America, to travel a little, and take it easy. Guarding a spoilt toff would be a piece of cake compared to hunting down and destroying vicious beasts. Besides, he deserved a holiday. His life's work was complete.

Or so he thought.

As Lovejoy stood in the doorway of the cargo hold, after following an easy trail of directions from people who hadn't been able to miss the pair of laughing youths running through the corridors, he felt the blood drain from his body, leaving him as ice cold as the ocean surrounding them.

A wolf. A werewolf. A golden werewolf, embraced with the fiancee of his employer's son, no less.

Lovejoy felt his entire world crumble around him. His mission in this world had been incomplete after all.

He felt anger boil inside him. He could kick himself for being so stupid, so gullible, so careless.

Five years had passed since he'd shot down that silver wolf in the bushes of Wisconsin. Five years since he'd failed to shoot the young fawn wolf that he'd been aiming for in the first place, and had run off into the forest out of sight. Five years he'd been telling himself that the wolf was surely dead by now. Either dead in the winter forest or become someone else's winning shot.

And for those five years he'd been disastrously wrong.

That wolf was still alive. And for the last four days he had been right here under Lovejoy's nose.

He'd had his suspicions about the strange young man that Rose had taken some odd shine to. Something about him was shifty. Uncomfortable. Familiar?

But he'd made the most fatal of flaws. He hadn't trusted his instincts.

The sound of footsteps from far across the cargo hold alerted both him and the two he was stalking. A search party no doubt.

As he turned from the scene before him and began his brisk journey back to his employer's suite to report his findings, Spicer Lovejoy made a vow to never deny his instincts again.


	18. Darkness Approaches Under Starry Skies

Their laughter echoed through the frosty night air as they stumbled out onto the almost-empty deck. Jack and Rose clung to each other as they caught their breath, only half-heartedly glancing back at the corridor behind them to see that they weren't followed. They knew they weren't. Those stewards had been so certain that they'd caught their prey when they surrounded the Renault. Little did they know that thanks to Jack's supernatural hearing, the two lovers had been one step ahead of them and fled to the safety of the cargo hold doorway. Once Jack had shifted back to human form, the two couldn't resist the urge to stay just a moment longer, lingering behind the safety of a pile of crates, and watch the looks of triumph fade from the stewards' faces as they thrust open the car door with a shout of "Gotcha!". The only noise that rang through the cargo hold any louder was that of their sworn snaps of frustration at finding the empty, if a bit steamy interior.

Jack and Rose had managed to hold back their laughter until they were safely several floors up, and couldn't seem to stop until they were out on the deck, catching their breath in each other's arms.

"Oh God, did you see their faces?" laughed Jack through his heavy breaths. He could scarcely understand why he was so happy. Such a close call would previously have left him on-edge and wary of any human interaction, and yet now all he could feel was how funny it was to nearly be caught in the arms of this amazing woman. Just the sight of her jade eyes twinkling with laughter made his heart soar with happiness. Her mere smile was infectious.

"I know, they looked ridiculous" Rose replied with a giggle, managing to steady her breathing at last. "It's like they thought we'd vanished into thin air"

Jack glanced around them, noticing just how empty the deck was. Well, in fairness, it was a pretty cold night, for anyone without a wolf's body temperature.

"It's so quiet" Rose remarked, leaning against Jack's side. Her heart thumped under her bodice; she wasn't used to so much running, and it had tired her out.

"Just how I like it" Jack replied, putting his arm around her as he glanced up at the night sky. "Quiet and starry"

"Oh my" Rose breathed as she looked up. It was indeed a beautiful starry night. The inky blackness of the sky was studded with what seemed like a thousand diamonds, twinkling above them. "It's beautiful"

"It is..." Jack muttered in reply as his eyes scoured the sky for anything familiar.

"Look there" he eventually said to Rose, pointing up into the sky. "You see those stars there?"

"Where?" Rose asked, attempting to follow the outline that Jack traced into the sky with his hand.

"There, see? That long line of stars, with the shorter lines either side..."

"Oh yes, I see it!"

"That's the constellation Cygnus. The swan. See it's wings?"

Rose could see it. If she looked hard enough, she could see the string of stars turn into glittering wings that soared above the sky.

"And those stars there? Kinda like a zigzag line?"

"Those ones?" Rose gestured into the sky.

"Yep. That's Hydra. It's supposed to represent a snake"

"I think I can see that... It's very long"

Rose was impressed. To her, the sky had seemed to be studded with an unorganised scattering of stars. But with Jack's guiding eye, she could see patterns emerging. She could see the shapes, the constellations with their many meanings, myths and stories.

"What's that one?" she asked eagerly, pointing to a small but bright cluster.

"That's Lyra" said Jack with a smile. "It's supposed to be shaped like an old instrument, a lyre, but the stories tell it as an eagle carrying the instrument"

"An eagle..." Rose muttered to herself. Rose liked eagles. They flew so majestically, as though they owned the sky. Her mother had never liked birds, but Rose had always enjoyed watching them fly. Soaring through the sky. Free.

"Yep" Jack continued. "Lyra's one of the tiny constellations, especially when she's surrounded by all those big ones. She may not be the biggest, but she's one of the brightest. Guess that's why she's my favourite"

Rose gazed at the tiny twinkling cluster, mesmerised. Not just with the newfound beauty of the story-filled sky, but Jack's knowledge of them.

"You know them all so well. How?" she asked, leaning herself against Jack's chest. She felt a rush of warmth as his arms closed around her, holding her close.

"The stars mean a lot to us" Jack replied, his voice quiet as his eyes remained fixed on the sky above. "We passed down their stories to each other. It's like... don't you have those made-up stories for children?"

"Fairytales?"

"Yeah, those. It's kinda like that, but... more special. Symbolic"

He paused.

"Do you remember what I told you last night? About the shooting stars?"

"A soul going to heaven..." Rose remembered.

She suddenly thought back to the previous night, which now felt like so much longer ago. The things they'd said to each other. All the things she'd said... She was suddenly so very glad that she'd had the courage to speak her opinions out loud the way she had. Perhaps if she hadn't, Jack wouldn't have had the courage to reveal himself to her. She leaned into him a little heavier, dreading the thought of never having found this beautiful connection between them. She found herself shivering a little. Perhaps if was her thoughts, but perhaps the cold of the night was finally creeping through the rapidly diminishing warmth of their previous excitement.

"You're cold" said Jack as he felt her tremble, his voice laced with concern.

"Just a little" Rose replied, smiling weakly.

"We should go inside"

"No" Rose protested. She didn't want to go inside. Not yet. Inside there were people, and class boundaries. Out here they were alone. "Not yet. I want to be alone with you... just a bit longer"

"Alright" Jack reluctantly agreed, but pulled away from her so he could slip off his jacket. "Here, put this on"

"But then you'll be cold"

"Nah. I'm a lot warmer than you anyway. I'll be fine. Here"

Rose allowed him to drape the jacket over her shoulders, feeling his body warmth within the fabric sink into her bones.

"Thank you" she said with a smile. "Can we sit down for a bit?"

They settled down on the deck together, against the wall, huddled close for shared warmth. Primarily for Rose's benefit, but Jack just enjoyed having her close to him. He put his arm around her as she rested her head on his shoulder, and there they stayed, silent for a minute or two, just content to be this close.

Finally, Rose found the courage to break the silence.

"Can you tell me more?" she asked quietly.

"What about?"

"You. Your life, where you're from, anything. I want to know everything about you"

Something inside Jack felt hesitant; he was so unused to being open about anything surrounding his life. But at the same time he was touched that Rose was so keen to learn more about him. And so he told her.

"You remember the night we met?" he began. "I told you about the lake, and the ice fishing?"

"Yes, I remember"

"That was true. Well, basically true. We were ice fishing, but not in the way you'd recognise. We dig holes into the ice to fish through. With our paws. Only, that time I messed up. I dug into a patch of ice that was too thin. It shattered all around me, and I fell in. I was pretty lucky my father managed to pull me out, or else I wouldn't have lasted long"

"But you're so much warmer than humans" Rose was a little puzzled. Cold seemed to affect Jack so little.

"Only so much" Jack explained. "Being in water that cold for so long gets to any creature eventually, even us. Like I said, Wisconsin gets pretty damn cold. But in the summer... it was beautiful. The forests were green and full. There was so much food to be had. Raccoons, squirrels, even deer. My first kill was a deer"

The nostalgic smile that had formed on Jack's face dimmed slightly at the memory, something which Rose was quick to notice.

"What is it?" she asked gently.

"My first hunt was the day they died" Jack replied, his voice low and reluctant. He didn't want to trouble Rose's mind with the thoughts that had plagued him for five years. She didn't need to imagine those things. He quickly carried on with his story.

"Anyway, after... that, I mostly stayed in the woods as much as possible. Hid, most of the time, in case the hunters were still out there. Never ran into any, thankfully. I managed to improve my hunting skills enough to survive" He chuckled a little as he remembered his first fledgling attempts at pouncing on pine martens. "I wasn't very good at first, it took a long time to perfect"

"What made you leave?" Rose's curiosity only grew the more she learned. Listening to Jack's tale was like reading a book she just couldn't put down.

"Paranoia? And curiosity I guess" said Jack. "One day, I heard voices in the forest. And then strange noises, like cutting, and crashing. Suddenly I saw one of the trees in the distance fall down, like it was just a twig stood up in the dirt. I realised they were humans, chopping down trees. So I ran away. But I was running out of forest. Over the next few days more humans came, and they cut down more trees. I could feel the forest getting smaller. So eventually I realised the best way to hide would be among them"

"That must've been hard"

"Yes" Jack admitted. "It isn't easy hiding among the people who want to kill you. Still, I'd be practicing controlling my shift, just in case I'd have to one day"

"You have to practice?" Rose was surprised. "I assumed you could just... do it"

"I wish it was that simple. It takes practice to control when you change. When we're young we mostly just shift back and forth all the time, sometimes without realising it. But when you get older you learn to control when you change form. But suppressing it... That's a lot harder. It's irritating, too. When you don't shift forms in a while, you can feel it annoying you inside, and soon you end up literally aching to change bodies.

"Sometimes it gets to the point where you literally can't control it, and it just comes bursting out of you. Most of the times when wolves have attacked humans, it's been because they've tried to hide it for so long that they couldn't help but change… and they can't control themselves anymore"

"That sounds awful" Rose sighed, dismayed at the thought of such a lonely, suppressed life. But on the subject of change, there was one niggling question she wanted to ask.

"Is it possible" she began, trying her hardest to make it not sound like a stupid question. "For humans to be... turned into werewolves, somehow? LIke through biting or something?"

Jack couldn't help but chuckle. He'd heard that story before.

"No" he replied. "That's not true. That's one of the many stories about us made up by humans to scare each other, or turn each other against us. You can't be changed into a wolf, by being bitten or otherwise. It's not a curse that can be put on you. It's who you are. It's a part of you. Just like your humanity is who you are"

"I suppose the one about the full moon isn't true either, then?"

"No" Jack had heard that one before as well. "Definitely not. If I only changed on the one night of the month when the moon was full, I think I'd probably go crazy"

"Fair enough" Rose smiled. "So, why Europe?"

"Well, after a while of just wandering around, I realised how interesting it could be, once I learned to live cautiously. Moving to new places was mostly about safety but it was also interesting to see them as well. I kinda developed a love of exploring, I guess. And when I saw a ship heading to France... I guess I saw it as an opportunity for adventure. Plus, Europe's a lot safer than America. My kind haven't lived in Europe for hundreds of years, the people aren't as familiar with us. I realised I'd be less easy to spot"

"I never realised that" said Rose. She had grown up knowing so little about werewolves; the topic was not considered a tasteful nor ladylike topic of conversation, and so her mind had been left mostly blank regarding them - aside from the fact that they were evil, and that it was a glorious day when they were pronounced gone from the world.

But they're not gone, Rose thought to herself. There's one right here. And he's beautiful, inside and out.

Rose reflected on everything Jack had told her. The terrible things that had happened to his family, that had driven him away from his home. The bravery he had had to summon just to survive in a world that wanted him dead. It made her own troubles seem so small.

She thought back to just a few days ago, when she had clung to the wrong side of the railings, ready to end her life for the sake of an arranged marriage. She realised just how weak she must seem in comparison. She had tried to escape her problems by running away from them, and not face them. She felt angry at herself now, looking back. She felt so much braver now, so much stronger. She wouldn't dream of throwing herself into the ocean for a problem that could be fixed by her own determination.

Rose said a silent vow to herself in her mind that from then on, she would be strong. She would take control of her life, and she would break free. She had taken control of her life tonight, and the result had been the most magical evening of her life. And tonight would be the first night of the rest of her life.

"Jack" she said, raising her head from his shoulder to look him in the eyes. "I've made a decision. When the ship docks, I'm getting off with you"

She said it clearly, and firmly. She had never been more sure of anything in her life.

"Rose..." Jack's voice was choked with hesitant happiness. "This is crazy"

"I know" Rose replied with a small laugh. "It doesn't make any sense. But that's why I trust it. You've made me realise that I need to take control of my life, and my problems. And I will. I'm leaving Cal, and my mother, and my whole world if I have to. I'm getting off this ship right by your side. I don't know where we'll go, or what we'll do, but we won't do it alone"

Jack could scarcely bring himself to believe what he was hearing. Surely his ears were deceiving him. Any moment now he would wake up, because this could only be a dream. This beautiful, astounding, wonderful woman wanted to be with him. Not just for tonight, but forever. And he wanted to be with her more than anything in the world. Never before tonight had he believed that he could ever find such love. But found it, he had.

There were no words to describe how he felt in that moment, and so no words were spoken. He simply drew Rose closer into his grasp and pressed his lips to hers in a loving kiss, which she returned, but with an added drop of passion.

The moment felt so perfect, as though it could never be broken, and yet, Jack found himself distracted, as his ears became aware of something unexplained.

He could hear odd sounds, coming from above. From the bridge. Shouting.

Reluctantly, he withdrew from the kiss to listen more sharply.

"What is it?" asked Rose, noticing the alertness of his features.

"Something's wrong..." Jack murmured, listening hard.

The voices were frantic, panicked. There were hurried footsteps up on the bridge, as though rushing around, mingled with the cries of...

"Turn!"

Before he could question the phrase or even make sense of the situation, he felt a jolt beneath him. Rose felt it too. The whole ship must have felt it. It was as though the ship had encountered an earthquake. For just a moment, everything seemed to shake.

Jack couldn't help himself. He knew something was wrong, and he wanted to know what. He lept to his feet, closely followed by Rose. There was nothing of interest to see on this side of the deck besides the sea, as black and still as stone, so they rushed across to the other side. Just in time to see the enormous wall of ice approach, huge, dark and jagged.

There were screeches as the ship's metal side scraped against the iceberg as they glided past it, screeches which hurt Jack's ears. Huge chunks of ice were sliced off of the berg by the ship, which came tumbling down onto the deck like an avalanche.

"Get back!" Jack shouted, pushing Rose back behind him as the ice rained down before them.

"What on Earth...!" Rose gasped as they watched the iceberg disappear behind them, sliding back into the darkness. "How did we manage to hit that?!"

"I don't know..." said Jack vaguely, his mind racing.

The blissful happiness of the night melted away like the ice chunks that lay on the deck as a million thoughts raced through his mind. Jack knew very little about the business of ships and their workings, but he was sure that a collision of that size could not be a good omen.


	19. Of Doubt and Danger

There's only so much brandy-fuelled talk of politics amongst a cloud of cigar smoke that one man can handle on a good night, let alone on a night when your fiance has seemingly vanished off of the face of the ship, undetectable, and more importantly, uncontrollable. And so it was at the earlier than usual time of about eleven o'clock that night that Caledon Hockley had decided he'd had enough. Stubbing out the last of his cigar, he bid his companions goodnight, and left the smoking room for his suite. If fate was to restore order to his night, he would arrive there to find that Lovejoy had been successful in his search, and Rose was back where she belonged, with either a sensible excuse as to where she had been all evening, or at the very least, a decent apology for her absence.

When Cal walked through the door to Suite B-52, he could sense straight away that something was not right. At first glance, everything seemed in order. But at a closer look, he could see that the couch had been moved. It was slightly closer to the wall than it had been before. Just a few inches, but noticeably different to him. And it's cushions were askew. Either the maids had seriously been letting down their standards in tidiness, or someone had arranged them in a rather unusual position, all up against one side. All this was curious, but not concerning. What was, however, was the fact that the door to the promenade deck was swung right open, letting the icy wind blow right through. And what was downright alarming, was that his closet door was also ajar, not securely shut, as Cal always left it.

Alarm bells ringing, he marched right through to the closet to examine the safe. It was locked. This was not good enough for Cal. He began turning the dials, anxious to check the contents of the safe. The moved furniture was a curiosity, but the doors left wide open were surely evidence of a robbery. Swinging open the safe door, he dove his hand inside, examining the contents.

He breathed a sigh of relief. His stash of bank note bundles (purely for emergencies, of course. One's cheque book was always a more sophisticated form of payment) were all present and correct. Right next to his blank cheque books, file of paperwork, the velvet jewellery case containing the Heart of the Ocean, and-

Cal's brow furrowed as his fingers brushed against the feel of old, worn leather. He grasped the object to pull out a folder. It looked as worn as it felt. Cheaply made. Definitely not an item Cal would have dreamt of purchasing in a million years. So how in God's name had it ended up in his safe?

Without a clue what to expect, or even why it mattered, he flipped open the folder. What greeted him was the vision he had long to see before him for so long. His fiance, in all her naked glory, was etched onto the paper in charcoal, every curve of her body perfectly outlined against the couch that she lay sprawled atop of. A cough with the cushioned piled up against one side. Rose's beautiful face lay amongst those cushions, her flowing curls tumbled around her freely. Around her neck hung the Heart of the Ocean.

Cal breathed deeply, trying to decide which of his many feelings to outwardly demonstrate. He had dreamt so long of seeing his fiance's naked flesh, and yet here it was. Not in his bedroom as it should have been, but upon a piece of paper, where it had been placed by someone else.

Cal felt rage begin to boil inside him as he realised who the artist of this picture must be. Of course, who else could it be? Rose had spent yesterday's dinner raving about that steerage trash's artistic talent. Cal should have trusted his instincts then and there and made more of an effort to keep her away from him. The thought of his soon-to-be-wife posing bare-fleshed like a common harlot for that good-for-nothing Dawson. No wonder the foolish girl had fled from him.

Just as his mind was beginning to contemplate what steps to take next, Cal's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the suite door opening. His head whipped round, hoping to see that Rose had returned at last, but was annoyed to see if was simply Lovejoy. Alone, his face grave. Failure, again. Incompetent fool.

"Mr Hockley" Lovejoy greeted, his stern English voice low and serious.

"What is it?" Cal snapped, flipping the folder quickly shut. He didn't notice the slip of paper flutter to his feet as he did so.

"I have news" said Lovejoy, pursing his lips.

"Yes?"

"I'm afraid it is not pleasant"

"If you meant to tell me that my fiance is cavorting around this God-forsaken vessel with Jack Dawson, I will save you the trouble of finishing. I am aware"

Cal's voice was cold as steel, and dangerously threatening. But Lovejoy had dealt with worse than a spoilt toff in his time.

"That is not all" he added.

Cal narrowed his eyes.

"Well?" he snapped at his manservant to continue.

"I tracked them down, to the cargo hold" Lovejoy began to explain, his eyes fixated on his employer's face, attempting to predict the precise level of rage that would erupt at each point in his speech.

"When I found them, they had just exited a motor car. A Renault. Judging by the state of the car windows, I'm afraid I can only conclude that there have been... improper relations, between them"

Cal snorted.

"I see" he said. He was not surprised. After what they had been up to in this very suite all evening, was it any wonder? Nonetheless, the blow of Lovejoy's words hurt. It hurt, to think of another man's hands on his woman. His wife. His property. And before he'd even had chance to lay his own on her!

"This in itself, is... regrettable" Lovejoy continued. "However there is more I must tell you, information that is far more worrying"

"Go on" Cal was curious now. What else could there be to this tale?

"Jack Dawson is not who he had led us to believe" said Lovejoy, his tone grave, his words slow, as he attempted to release the information slowly. He'd seen before how people could react rashly when discovering they have been in the company of a wolf. "Indeed he is not WHAT he has led us to believe. Jack Dawson is a werewolf"

Cal felt his heart skip a beat in shock. Surely he had misheard. The anger inside him melted away, replaced temporarily with a mixture of disbelief and intrigue. Pursing his lips, he breathed deeply, contemplating what to say.

"Surely you are mistaken" said Cal, his voice low. "This cannot be. The beasts are dead, have been for years"

"Not all of them" said Lovejoy through gritted teeth. "On my life, Sir, this is no mistake. I have seen it with my own eyes. I have seen him transform. He is a wolf"

He struggled to control his own rage within him as he spoke. Uttering aloud the confirmation that one of those foul creatures still walked the Earth, roamed this very ship, was to admit that his life's work had been a failure.

Rage boiled deep within Cal, growing more with every second he was aware of the fact that his fiance had been fraternising with a werewolf. He hoped to God that she was not aware of what he truly was. That no one else was aware. The only thing worse than that creature being alive was that anyone should find out that Caledon Hockley's wife-to-be had been associated with him. The shame, the scandal. It would ruin him. He would be finished. Outcasted. It could not be allowed to happen. Something must be done. And fast.

"You appear to have dropped something"

Lovejoy's words dragged Cal reluctantly out of his raging thoughts. He glanced down to where his manservant pointed to see the slip of paper at his feet. For God only knows what reason, given the circumstances, he picked up the piece of paper. It was a note.

Darling, Now you can keep us both locked up in your safe. Rose.

The words stung. They did little to fuel the fire within him regarding Jack Dawson, but they lashed at his heart like the sting of a ray, scarring him. She was laughing in his face. She was ridiculing him. She clearly cared absolutely nothing for him. And after all he had given her.

"Something must be done about the wolf" said Lovely.

His employer did not reply for several moments, and Lovejoy had begun to wonder if he should repeat his words, before he finally got a reply.

"Indeed" came Cal's muttered, distracted voice.

"I can get it done quietly" Lovejoy explained. "I shall wait until Miss Rose has returned alone, and she is safely out of the way"

The plan was good enough. A quiet, clean death. Silent and discreet. No one need never know. When Rose returned, Cal would ensure that she stayed put right here in the suite where she belonged, since she clearly could not be trusted with freedom. She need never even know what happened. But then why should she not? Cal was not a man to put up with being wronged. Not by his business associates, not by his employees, and certainly not by his wife. He would sting her heart the way she had stung his.

"No" he said, his voice cold as ice. "I've got a better idea"

Ten minutes later, the plan discussed and agreed, Lovejoy stood in his own room, with the briefcase he took on all his travels open on his bed. The briefcase contained the tools of his trade, and he never went any long distance without it. Force of habit from the old days. He praised himself for his prepared nature, for the day had come when the contents of the case were needed once more.

Inside the case lay his supply of werewolf-lethal tools, which he began to load onto himself, as he routinely had done during his time in the force. He took out his pride and joy, his silver gun. Far more decorative than necessary, it had been a present from his family upon his journey to America. He had lost count of how many wolves' last sight on this Earth had seen the barrel of this gun, and tonight he intended to add one last look to the list. One that should have been added a long time ago.

He secured the gun into his shoulder holster, loaded with silver bullets. Spare bullets were stashed in a pouch along the opposite strap, leaving several spaces free for his second weapon.

The briefcase also contained a supply of pre-loaded syringes, its liquid contents as bright a purple as that from the flower of which it derived it's name. Wolfsbane. The wolfsbane solution, once in the bloodstream, was enough to render a werewolf unable to shift forms. Lovejoy had used it to disarm many a wolf before going for the kill. A handy substance to have. Thank goodness he'd kept his old supplies topped up at the ready.

His holster loaded at the the ready, Lovejoy felt a sickening excitement growing inside him. He felt a rush of fun at the thought of one last hunt, one last kill. Once more, for old times' sake.

If it hadn't been for the sudden and mysterious shaking of the floor beneath his feet, he may have gotten a little carried away.

"How many compartments?"

"Five, sir. All three holds, boiler room six-"

"All stop. I want Andrews and all senior officers in my office now"

Jack and Rose listened to the worried conversations between the ship's captain and officers as they hurried past, barely acknowledging the fact that they were in their path, such was their panic.

"This must be bad" said Jack.

Rose wished she could disagree. They had both hoped against hope that the collision with that iceberg hadn't done too much, if any damage. Titanic was a sturdy ship. Surely she would prevail. But the fear in the voices of the crew told a different tale. Trouble was surely brewing. Perhaps even danger. It made Rose think... If something had truly happened, her mother may not know. She would have spent a while after dinner chattering away with the other ladies as usual, before retiring for the night. She wouldn't have seen the iceberg, maybe not even felt the ship shudder. But if danger was coming, she should know. Despite her feelings towards her, Ruth was still her mother. And Rose had a daughter's duty to warn her.

Jack utterly refused to allow her to return to her stateroom alone.

"You're not going back there" he said firmly. "Not with that man there. I can't let you, it's too dangerous"

Rose felt a warm rush of love for Jack run through her. His protectiveness of her was reassuring. But she had made her mind up. She knew what was the right thing to do.

"I don't care about Cal" she replied. "If he happens to be there to hear the news, then fine. But Jack... she's my mother. She may be a spiteful cat of a woman, but if something truly is wrong, I have to warn her. I just have to"

Jack sighed. He couldn't argue with her. And anyway, deep down, he knew she was right.

"Alright" he said, stroking his hand across her porcelain cheek. "But I'm still not letting you go alone. I'm coming with you"

"Jack, you can't" Rose protested. "It's too dangerous. You've been hiding from humans this long for a reason, don't endanger yourself now because of me. I can handle Cal, I know I can"

"Exactly, I've been hiding my true self this long, and I can keep on doing it" Jack replied. Very rarely had he ever truly felt secure around humans for too long, but something inside him had changed. His love for Rose had grown his strength. His desire to protect her above all else told him that he would happily walk into a burning room for her. Enduring the company of a few humans for a little while was an easier battle.

His eyes found hers, and their gazes locked once again, capturing them both in almost a hypnotic trance.

"I'm coming with you" said Jack firmly, speaking into her jade orbs. "End of story"

And so they went, hand in hand together, to the First Class staterooms. Finding enough confidence in just each other at first, but their nerves began to fray a little the closer they got, both sensing the other's dread through the tightening grip of their hands.

"Just keep hold of my hand" Rose whispered as they approached the corridor. Up ahead, lurking as usual like a bad smell, was Lovejoy. He smiled welcomingly as they approached.

"Miss Rose" he greeted, his polite voice dripping with sickly sweetness. "We've been looking for you, Miss"

Rose ignored him, staring straight ahead confidently as they walked to the door.

So engrossed was Jack in making sure that he appeared as confident and non-suspicious as possible, that he didn't even hear the ever so slight clink of the diamond chain as it landed in his pocket.

The sitting room was a hive of activity. Stewards roamed the room, examining things. One of them comforted Ruth, looking very distressed in her dressing gown, and handed her a whiskey which she gratefully accepted.

"I want the entire room photographed" came Cal's steely, demanding voice.

All eyes turned to the doorway as Jack and Rose entered. All talk grew silent. This was it. Rose took a deep breath. She did not loosen her grip on Jack's hand.

"Something serious has happened" she said, her eyes fixated on her mother.

"Yes it has" Cal retorted before Ruth could reply. He glanced to Lovejoy, and received the confirmation nod, as planned.

"Indeed" he muttered. "Two things dear to me have disappeared this evening. Now that one is back, I think I have a pretty good idea of where to find the other. Search him"

The steward responded to the barked command before anyone could question Cal's words.

"Take your coat off, son" said the man, a portly Irishman, as he pulled apart Jack and Rose's grip on each other.

"Now what?" Jack sighed as the man began to search him, patting him down from head to toe. Every instinct in his body told him to run, but he forced himself to stay firmly put. He couldn't leave Rose.

"Cal, what is this?" Rose was shocked and confused. Her eyes darted anxiously from Jack to Cal, trying to find the meaning of this. "We're in the middle of an emergency, what's going on?"

Before she could reply, the steward called out "Is this it?", and brandished in the air for all to see, the Heart of the Ocean.

"Yes, that's it" Cal reached out to take the diamond.

Jack's stunned automatic reaction was to retaliate.

"This is horseshit!" he shouted in anger at the confusion and injustice.

"No... He couldn't have"

Rose refused to belief it. No. This couldn't be. It just couldn't.

"Of course he could have" Cal snapped. "What else would you expect from someone like him?"

"But I was with him the whole time..."

"Perhaps he did it while you were putting your clothes back on, dear"

Cal's words, hissed into her ear, made Rose's skin crawl, and her memory jolt. Suddenly everything seemed unclear. She could feel Cal standing right behind her, almost pressed against her. His cold breath brushed against her skin. She could sense the true depth of his fury at her actions. She was speechless.

Jack focused all of his energy on searching Rose's face for any sign that she truly believed him. That she knew that Cal was a lying snake who had set him up. But the longer he looked, the less of her confidence in him she saw. Cal's whispered words unheard to the stewards but clear as crystal to Jack's superior senses, had clearly frightened Rose. It had knocked her down. He could see her strength failing, her mind clouding. Her trust fading.

"Rose, please, you know I didn't do this!" he urged as the steward forced his hands behind him and into metal cuffs. He resisted as the men tried to lead him to the door. He struggled against them as they began to pull him out of the room. "Rose, you know I didn't do it! You know me!" he shouted desperately. But he may as well have shouted at a brick wall. Rose's face stayed as blank and stunned as ever. He called to her until he had been dragged right out of the stateroom and halfway down the corridor before finally admitting defeat.

Rose's whole body felt cold. She felt empty. She felt betrayed. She felt everything and nothing, all at once. She breathed a shuddery breath, turning herself slowly to face her mother, who the whole time had stayed still as a statue, a white-knuckle grip on her whiskey glass. Her tired, watery eyes filled with a mixture of disappointment and sadness. Silently, she shook her head just once, and then turned to return to her own room, closing the door firmly behind her.

Dazed, Rose turned to face her fiance.

Cal's face was dangerously calm. Too calm. Like the threatening stillness of the air, just moments before the storm hits. Rose remained frozen to the spot as Cal took a silent step towards her. She raised her eyes to meet his own, and stared into his cold, black gaze for just a moment before he lashed out a swipe at her, slapping her hard across the face, knocking her head sideways with the force of the blow.

But not even that could bring Rose out of her stunned state. She remained still, her head flung sideways.

"Oh it is a little slut, is it?" Cal sneered. But to no response. How dare she ignore him?"

"You will look at me when I'm talking to you!" he shouted, seizing hold of the girl roughly by the shoulders. But still she did not respond.

Before Cal could lash out again, in walked another steward, without even the decency to wait to be told to enter.

"So sorry to disturb, but I've been sent to ask if you would please put on your lifebelts and-"

"Not now, we're busy"

Cal's threatening snap was not enough to deter the man.

"I'm sorry to disturb you Mr Hockley, but it is Captain's orders"

And he proceeded to boldly ended the first bedroom he saw and retrieve the lifebelts from atop the wardrobe.

"God, this is ridiculous" Cal sighed, carelessly releasing Rose from his grip and storming off into the next room.

The steward felt sorry for the poor girl. She was clearly quite shaken up by something or other. Perhaps she had seen the berg.

"Oh, I'm sure it's just a precaution", he tried to reassure her. "Not to worry, Miss"


	20. The Ghost of Nightmares Past

Numb, was all that Jack could feel as he was taken through the ship by the stewards, down several decks and through endless identical corridors. He didn't keep track of the path they took, or even thought about where they were taking him. He didn't even resist anymore. all he could think about was Rose, and the look on her face just before he was dragged out of the room. She looked so hurt. So confused. And the smirk on the face of the man behind her, his dark eyes glinting. A smirk that suggested his heart was as cold as the metal he reeked of.

Down another seemingly endless corridor they went, until finally, they reached their destination. The room the stewards had brought Jack to seemed to be some sort of office, and probably one to do with security, judging by the cabinet full of keys on the wall. Jack listened hard, but he couldn't hear the usual sounds of people in the rooms around him; no footsteps or chatter. It was late, but even at this hour there was usually someone to be heard. But he could hear the clattering of the engine and boiler rooms, heaving with noise even though the ship had stopped.

The stewards led him to the corner of the room, where a large vertical pipe stood. The man with the thick Irish accent, who seemed to be in charge of the bunch, quickly set about securing Jack to the pipe by his handcuffs. Thoughts of resistance swam through Jack's mind urgently, but what good would any of them be to him? He could struggle against them in human form, but with three against one, he was sure to lose the fight.

Of course he could always just shift to wolf form. His hands would just slip free of the cuffs once they changed to slimmer paws, but to shift in front of humans would go against every instinct in Jack's body. Besides, a sinking ship was bad enough a situation, without being hunted down by the ship's crew at the same time.

Then there was the final option, which would be to shift and dispose of the witnesses. But murder was a low that Jack would never sink to. He would not prove the humans right in their opinions of his kind. Whatever the way out of this mess was, that was not it.

In the time it took for his options to fight each other for dominance in his mind, the steward had just about finished securing Jack to the pipe, before he was suddenly interrupted by a junior steward in the doorway.

"Sir" he gasped, out of breath. "Sir, they need you up and the Second Class Purser's Office. There's a big mob up there"

A sigh from the Irishman. Two jobs in one night. What he wouldn't give for a drink.

"Go on, I'll keep an eye on him"

The smell of burnt wood, charred and bitter, invaded Jack's senses. He knew exactly who it was before he turned his head to look. It was Lovejoy, the cold man who worked for Rose's fiance. He must have followed them down from First Class.

There he stood beside the door, brandishing a silver pistol in his hand, the sight of which made Jack's blood run cold. His eyes were as cold as the metal of his weapon, and yet there was a hint of a smirk on his mouth, just a tiny upward crease in the corner, almost undetectable to anyone who wasn't watching out for it.

"Aye, right" the Irishman agreed, finalising the lock on the handcuffs and pocketing the key as he marched from the room, leaving Jack alone with Lovejoy.

Tension hung thick in the cold air in the moments after the crew left. Jack watched the older man, whose expression gave little away. Their eyes met for a moment, but Jack could barely read them. This strange man, who made Jack uncomfortable for reasons he couldn't work out, was staring at him with a look that could almost be called triumphant. And yet, what reasons could he possibly have to be?

The noise out on deck was deafening. The funnels still steamed, blaring out their hissing roar, and mixed with it were the shouts and calls of the crew, the clanging and clattering of boats being uncovered, ropes being tossed, and the lifeboat davits being prepared. A distress rocket exploded above them, it's deafening bang signalling to all on board that something was desperately wrong. And on top of it all, the worried chirping of the cluster of First Class passengers who dared to brave the icy midnight air. The noise bore into Rose's head like an endless foghorn, and she could feel is driving her slowly insane. Not that anyone around her noticed. Her mother, Cal, the various ladies and gentlemen of the surprisingly small group that had made their way out to the lifeboats as instructed.

"Mr Wilde, where are the rest of the passengers?!"

"Now my dear, there is no cause for alarm. The boat is perfectly sound, and we'll all be safely back on board by breakfast, you'll see"

"You up there! Get down here and help with these boats!"

The endless voices raced around inside Rose's ears, their words interchangable, their meanings lost to her.

But one voice rang loud and clear.

"Will the lifeboats be seated according to class?"

Her mother's voice called to the man preparing the boat in front of their group.

"I do hope they're not too crowded" Ruth chuckled to her companions.

It was the chuckle that snapped Rose out of her state of shock. It was the spark to set the fire inside her, waiting to rage. Rose could remember, in fact, had scarcely forgotten, the chilling words of Thomas Andrews that afternoon. The ship did not have enough lifeboats for everyone. Hundreds of people would lose their lives tonight. And the sound of laughter, however careless, in this deadly situation was so outrageous that Rose could not help herself.

"Oh, Mother" she practically spat, her voice laced with venom. "Shut up!"

Rose grabbed her mother by the shoulders, giving her a shake as if to snap her back into reality.

"Don't you understand? The water is freezing and there aren't enough boats. Not by half"

She paused, and took in the shocked expression in her Mother's watery, pale-blue eyes. But when the look of shame and grief failed to appear, Rose realised she'd have to spell it out, however unladylike the bluntness was.

"Half the people on this ship are going to die"

"Not the better half"

Rose turned to her fiance. She gazed up into his smug, unapologetic face. There was not a hint of joking to be given away. He meant every word.

The silence that followed gave Ruth's companions the opportunity to hurry her, and themselves, into the waiting lifeboat, and away from this unfortunate public display. Thank goodness the situation was enough for it to be overlooked once this unfortunate night was over.

"You know, it's a pity to lose that wolf. It's pelt would be worth a fortune by morning"

Cal's words exploded into Rose's clouded mind at the same time the distress rocket exploded into her ears. Jack. What was she thinking? What had she done? She had abandoned him, betrayed him, even. Urgent need filled her inside. Need to go to him, to put things right. Before it was too late. In that moment of realisation, she stared into the soulless eyes of the man before her, and Rose had absolutely no idea how she could ever have brought herself to believe a word he said.

"You unimaginable bastard"

Her words seemed to stir something, just a little hint of feeling, inside Cal. His brow furrowed, and he looked at her, almost as though offended.

"Come on, Rose, you're next darlin'!"

Molly Brown's voice, its usual bright, singsong self, brought courage to the women sat in the rickety wooden boat, but Rose had no desire to follow its lead. She looked at the boat, with its cluster of frightened little women, so sheltered and constrained by their society lives that they looked as though they hadn't a hope in hell of defending themselves at all. And amongst them, her mother. Hard as stone once again.

"Come into the boat, Rose" she commanded.

"Come" Cal added, as though she were a dog to be called.

Rose did not move.

"Rose!" Ruth almost hissed, glancing around her, embarrassed to have this disobedience witnessed by such company. "Get into the boat!"

Rose stared at her mother and the First Class women, snug inside their gilded cage. The last place on Earth she intended to walk was into that lifeboat to join them behind the golden bars.

In a stony voice that truly proved she was her mother's daughter, Rose bid her last farewell.

"Goodbye, Mother"

She turned, and she left.

She could scarcely hear the cries of her Mother calling for her to come back. She didn't care. All she cared about was finding Jack.

But before she'd made it to the doorway back inside, a harsh grip grabbed her by the arm, forcing her around and holding her there in a painful, twisted hold.

"Where are you going?" Cal snapped in disbelief at her. Was this girl genuinely insane? The ship was going down and all she could do was worry about that wolf?

"What, to him?" Cal's words were choked with angered shock at his wife-to-be's actions. "To be a whore to that filthy beast?"

The jade-green eyes of his fiance bore into his soul, flames of anger and rebellion burning within them.

"I'd rather be his whore than you wife"

She tried to tug away, but he hauled her back.

"No!" he shouted in anger, but the flecks of desperation leaked through, fuelling Rose's determination. She arched her back, hawked it back, and spat like a man, right in his face. With the monster shocked off guard, Rose sized her chance and pulled herself free, sprinting off into the crowd as fast as she could, and didn't stop until she had flown through First Class and down several floors of the grand staircase, shoving her way past the shocked passengers who happened to be in her way.

With her mind free from the noise of the deck and Cal lost far behind her, only one determined thought filled Rose's thoughts.

She had to find Jack, and fast.

Jack's eyes never left the man sat at the desk before him, lounging there with his legs crossed, coyly letting a bullet roll continuously down the wood into his hand. The bullet seemed to roll faster each time. Jack's heart beat fast and hard at the very sight of the little lump of silver. And the silent, smug smile of it's owner put all of his instincts on edge.

Lovejoy was enjoying this far too much. He knew he was breaking just about every rule in the book of his profession. A good hunter doesn't play with his prey, he kills it quick and secures the victory. But this last kill, the last of its kind there would ever be, was just too valuable to finish without savouring. Snatching up the bullet as it rolled over the table rim, he thrust it into his pistol, relishing the flinch his victim gave as the crack of the weapon being loaded. He was certain that Jack didn't know what he knew. Surely the wolf would have savaged him to death by now if he did. Lovejoy knew he had the advantage, and he intended to make the most of it.

"You know" he began, before slowly getting to his feet. "I do believe this ship may sink"

His casual conversational voice was met with distrustful silence. Jack stiffened as Lovejoy began to slowly pace the room around him, fiddling with his gun.

"Inconvenient, of course" the suave English tone continued, as though it were as trivial a matter as a rainy winter day. "I had hoped for a smooth passage to America. But no matter. A place in a lifeboat should be easy enough to secure. As my employer says, there's nothing you can't buy with the right number written on a cheque"

Silence. Alway silence. His captive's eyes followed him around the room like a hawk. Expressionless. Never giving anything away.

"Of course, you don't know what I did before I was employed by the Hockleys" Lovejoy continued.

Jack was baffled. The man could easily have been having a chat over afternoon tea.

"I am retired from the police force" Lovejoy explained. "After a long and distinguished career during the Purge of the Wolves"

Jack felt a shiver run down his spine at the man's words. But he never allowed his expression to betray his feelings. Even if he wanted to reply, Lovejoy continued his speech without allowing him the time. He was clearly intent on having Jack hear everything he had to say.

"I rarely forget a face, you know. All part of the business, you understand. I wouldn't have been very good at my job if I did. I did wonder, however, if my mind was playing tricks on me when I thought I had seen you before. Yes, your face certainly rang a bell from someone, but I just couldn't quite place it. When I discovered your dirty little secret, however, of course it all came back to me. Yes, you've certainly grown quite a bit since that day. You remember, of course, the happy day that the last werewolf pack in Wisconsin was disposed of? Yes I thought you probably would. Frustrating day for myself, of course. One never truly gets over having lost a kill"

Jack felt dizzy with shock. He was stunned into silence. Surely this had to be a nightmare. Because here stood the very man from his nightmares. The shadowy figure from the trees that had brought with him the end of everything Jack had ever loved. He breathed heavily, his eyes wide as the hunter approached, mere footsteps away from him. He pulled at his restraints in panic, the echoing clang of the metal cuffs reminding him of just how trapped he was.

"Still, no matter" said Lovejoy, raising his pistol to distract his victim from the hand that snaked inside his coat. "All will be put right soon enough"

His expert attack came with lightning quickness, too fast for Jack to even begin to think about fending off. In one fluid swipe, Lovejoy withdrew his loaded syringe from inside his coat and thrust it deep into the back of Jack's shoulder, the needle stabbing deep into his muscle, releasing it's poison to flow within him.

Jack let out a strangled cry in pain as the wolfsbane ran through into his blood, stinging it's way into every part of him, it's effects dizzyingly weakening him. He had heard tales of the agony the substance could cause as it cut off your power to reach the other half of yourself, but to feel it was an indescribable agony. He slumped against the pipes, gasping for breath and willing the room to stop spinning.

And still Lovejoy's voice echoed through his ears.

"Just in case you get any ideas about shifting your way out of those cuffs. I regret that I don't have any of the strongest concentration of wolfsbane anymore. A lethal dose is expensive and hard to come by these days. But that should still be enough to prevent you from shifting for an hour or so. Long enough for the water to finish you off before it wears off, at least"

His words swam around Jack's dizzy mind. Jack could feel his senses returning to him. The room had finally stilled. He attempting to pull himself back upright.

"Oh, and just one more thing"

The punch landed hard into Jack's stomach, knocking the breath right out of him and leaving him slumped against the pipe once more.

"Compliments of Mr. Caledon Hockley" said Lovejoy, striding back to the desk to pocket the little silver key to the handcuffs. The key to Jack's life. He turned to face his prey once more, to impart his final words and bring closure to the mistakes of his past at long last.

"Of course I had originally planned to just shoot you cleanly, but I can't help but think it rather a fitting end to my work, for the last wolf to drown, instead, nice and slowly. Call it payback for ruining my victory five years ago"

Jack breathed heavily as he forced himself to lift his head to watch the ghost from his past, and perhaps the last living soul he would ever see, walk away to the door. Lovejoy paused one last time to deliver with a triumphant smile, the final blow.

"Oh and when the water has finally finished off my life's work for me, do send my regards to your father. He was such an easy shot"

Jack would have gladly taken another punch to the gut. It would have hurt less.


	21. Chapter 21

If Rose had had the mental capacity to be even the slightest bit concerned about the world outside of her task at hand, she'd have been surprised and confused about the lack of urgency of the passengers around her as she ran through the ship. The First Class corridors were worryingly devoid of people, and the communal areas around the grand staircase were occupied by a mere few groups of ladies and gentlemen, very few of them wearing lifebelts as asked to, and even few of them showing much concern for what was going on. Had they not been told the true extent of the situation? Or did they truly believe the tales that the Titanic was simply unsinkable?

Whatever the reason, it was of little matter to Rose. There was only one person she was looking for as she hurried through the corridors, calling his name. Thomas Andrews. The one man who knew this ship like the back of his hand. He would know where to find Jack. But where would you find Mr Andrews? From the sort of man he seemed to be, Rose doubted he would be wasting time over a drink like everyone else. He knew better than anyone just how little time they all had left. Surely he would be trying to hurry along the evacuation. And that's exactly where Rose found him, in the corridors, urging passers-by to put on their lifebelts and knocking on door to ensure the rooms were empty.

"Oh thank God, I found you!" Rose gasped as she hurried up to him. "Please, Mr Andrews, I need your help. Where would the Master at Arms take someone under arrest?"

Mr Andrews looked at her, his eyes in a panicked disbelief at what he was hearing. Surely the girl had seemed more sensible than to be wasting time like this.

"What? Rose, you have to get to a boat right away!" He attempted to guide her along the corridor with him, but Rose shook him away, a rudeness which any other day would have been a great offence to those around her. But Rose was long past caring about anything other than finding Jack.

"No!" she snapped firmly. "I'm doing this with or without your help, sir. But without will take longer"

Mr. Andrews shook his head hopelessly. He wanted more than anything to see this bright young woman safely onto a lifeboat, to guarantee that her life would be spared by the coming disaster, the loss of at least one due to his errors off of his conscience at least. But if she would not accept that, he would do whatever next best thing he could. And the sooner she finished whatever it was she was so fixated on doing, the sooner she would see to saving herself.

"Take the elevator to the very bottom. Go to the left. Turn down the Crew Only passage, then go right, and left again at the stairs. You'll come to a long corridor..."

Rose desperately tried to absorb the information being hurriedly fed to her. Could she remember all this? She had to. Jack's life could depend on it. For once in her life, her brain was needed for a essential task, and she intended to use it at last. And no one nor anything would stand in her way.

Certainly not a humble elevator operator who made the mistake of trying to tell her that the lifts were out of use. A deep, frustrated anger erupted inside Rose. With a force she was was not familiar with, she sized him by the uniform and shoved hard.

"I am through being polite, Goddamn it!" she roared, slamming the shocked young man into the wall of the elevator. "Now take me down!"

The man fumbled to close the door and carry out the order as quick as he could. Rose breathed deeply as they descended, focusing on staying calm for the sake of remembering the path she needed to follow. But all thoughts of staying calm were shattered by the rushing sound of water which began to flood the lift. Rose couldn't help but let out a scream as the icy water poured into her shoes and stung her feet with it's coldness.

"Up! We need to go back up!" shouted the operator, desperately trying to man the switches in his panic. Rose pushed her way past him before he could send them back. "

"No!" she snapped, forcing the doors of the elevator open herself, all the while desperately trying not to let the freezing water now soaking her legs get the better of her. Jack had been right. Water this icy was not simply cold. It was painful. But Rose knew she was stronger than this. She would not be beaten by water. Not yet.

"Come back!" the panicked young man screamed at his crazy passenger. But she just didn't listen, brazenly wading out of the shaft and into the flooded corridor. She must be completely mad. But he knew what was good for him, even if she didn't.

"I'm going back up!" he warned, grasping hold of the switch with his shaking hands. "I'm going back up!"

The girl ignored him. He had given fair warning. She was no longer his problem. He pulled the switch and sent himself back up through the decks to safety. Rose watched the crystal clear water pouring from the elevator as he ascended. For a moment she was reminded of a waterfall. A thing of beauty. In a split second moment of thought, she wondered how something as beautiful as water could inflict so much pain.

Whipping her head around the E Deck landing, she spotted the corridor to her left that Mr Andrews had told her about. Crew Only Passage, the sign above it read. She was on the right path. Rose waded along the corridor, each step feeling like a marathon with her water-soaked dress tangling around her ankles and her coat weighing her down. She hurried along the corridor as fast as she could, desperately trying to remember the path given to her by Mr Andrews. The water was up to her shins already, and was surely only going to rise. She had no idea how high the water was where she was going, she only hoped she wasn't too late.

Jack breathed heavily as he fought hard against the handcuffs chaining him to the pipe. The sting of the wolfs-bane coursing through his body had subsided, and in it's place was left a strange, dull feeling. He tried repeatedly to shift forms, but it just wouldn't work. He couldn't reach the other half of himself. Trying to reach the wolf inside him was like trying to blindly grasp something hidden in the dark. It just wasn't there. Being unable to change forms at will was frustrating enough, but the longer he was trapped in this room, the more panicked Jack began to feel.

After what felt like an eternity of trying to break free from the handcuffs, he glanced out of the porthole beside him and noticed that where the water line had once been, there was now nothing. The room was now completely submerged, and as Jack glanced down at the floor, he realised there was now a slight but unavoidable tilt to the ground.

Reality began to dawn on him. The situation was getting more serious with each passing second. There was no time to waste. It was time for the last resort.

"Help!" he began to shout, hoping against hope that someone would hear him. He banged his wrists against the pipe, the clanging of the metal adding to the noise. He listened hard for sounds of life, and realised with dismay that the poison inside him had also dulled his usually superior wolf's hearing. He continued to call for help, though hope faded fast the longer he tried.

Suddenly, as he paused for breath and to reevaluate the situation, he heard the dreaded rushing noise. It must be close, far too close, considering he could no longer hear from far away. He whipped his head round to the doorway, and watched in horror as the ocean slowly began to leak into the room.

"Oh shit!" Jack shouted, panic overtaking him. Time was running out very fast. He needed to break free now. He pulled himself up onto the desk beside him and began to pull at the pipe on the ceiling, praying that it would come away from it's place. Time and time again, he pulled as hard as he could. But it didn't so much as budge. Jack began to feel dizzy again from the strength it took to struggle; the wolfsbane drained him far too quickly. Feeling defeated, he slid down from the desk and rested his head against the pipe, resigning himself to his fate at last. Perhaps this was it. Perhaps this was how it was supposed to end.

"Jack!"

Jack's head shot up. Had he really just heard what he thought he'd heard? Or had he imagined it?

"Jack!"

No, there it was again! Rose's voice, as clear as day! She hadn't forsaken him after all.

"Rose!" he shouted back, as loud as he could muster. "Rose, I'm in here!"

He clanged the cuffs against the pipe again, trying to create a path of sound for her to follow. She continued to call for him, and he could hear her splashing through the corridor.

At long last, Rose had found Jack. Relief swelling inside her as she hurried to him, her clothes dragging behind her.

"Jack! I'm sorry!" she gasped as she threw her arms around him. "I'm so sorry!"

Their lips clung together, hungry for each other.

"It was that guy, Lovejoy, he put the necklace in my pocket" said Jack, desperate that Rose should understand that he was innocent.

"I know, I know!" Rose replied, close to tears. She blamed herself entirely for this entire mess, but now she would put it right. And fast. "We need to get out of here"

Her eyes fell upon Jack's wrists, chained to the pipe. Thought raced through her head.

"Can't you get out? If you change, surely the cuffs would just fall off?"

She felt as though her words were stupidly obvious, but then why hadn't Jack already done so?

"I can't" said Jack, lowering his head hopelessly. "I can't change. Rose. It's Lovejoy. He's a hunter. Or was, at least. He knows what I am"

Rose gasped. She'd had no idea. She knew that Cal's valet was a former policeman but she'd had no idea that he'd been involved in the wolf hunts.

"He had wolfsbane" Jack continued. "He managed to inject it into me and now I can't change" He pulled against the pipe again in frustration.

Rose's head swam. She had heard vaguelly of wolfsbane but had not known the extent of it's effects. Her heart sank. What on earth were they going to do now? She looked around at the water swirling at their feet. They had to think fast.

"Rose, I need you to try and find a spare key" Jack instructed, gesturing to the wall behind Rose. "It's a little silver one" Rose caught sight of the key cabinet across from her. Why hadn't she seen that before? She hurried over and began fingering the keys hurriedly. None were labelled.

"These are all brass ones!" Rose sighed impatiently. She began to claw open the desk drawers, tossing aside anything in her way in search of the precious key.

Jack watched her, his heart warming with love and pride as she searched, her face graced with a look of determination he had yet to see on her. She had run into the face of danger in order to save him, and that in itself was a wondrous thing. But he needed to ask.

"Rose. How did you find out I didn't do it?"

"I didn't" said Rose. "I just realised I already knew"

Jack was speechless. All he could do was smile. She didn't even need it to be proven. Just just knew in her heard that he hadn't done it. She may have hesitated to speak that fact at the time, but that didn't matter now. She was here, and that was all that mattered.

The sloshing of the water around them brought them both back to the urgent reality.

Rose searched the room high and low, the water rising steadily around them.

"It's not good!" she cried in defeat, wishing she knew what to do now.

"You're gonna have to go and find some help" said Jack. The last thing in the world he wanted was for them to be separated again, but with no hope of escape in this room and time fast running out, the options were slim.

The look on Rose's face told him the exact same thoughts were racing through her mind. She staggered towards him, weighed down by her saturated clothes, and threw her arms around his neck. Jack wished he could hug her back.

"I'll be right back" Rose said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt.

"I'll just wait here!" Jack called after her, hoping he sounded more cheerful than he felt.

Alone once again with only sound of the rising water for company, Jack couldn't help but smile. Rose had come back to him. Even in his current dire situation, the world seemed a brighter place just from knowing that Rose still trusted him. If he died tonight, at least he had that truth in his heart.

Minutes ticked by, each second feeling like an eternity as the water steadily rose around him. Jack hauled himself up onto the desk beside him in a vain attempt to escape the flood. He was above the waterline for now, but he wouldn't be for much longer. Just as he began to worry that Rose had encountered trouble, she returned, with "help" in the form of a heavy axe.

"Will this work?" she asked, raising it high.

It didn't like like there was much of a choice but to try.

"I guess we'll find out" said Jack, not overly encouraged by the way the axe waved unsteadily in Rose's grasp as she waded across the room. As much as he wanted to escape, he didn't quite feel that the loss of a hand would be much use to the situation. "But try a couple of practice swings over there first"

Rose was not a skilled aim, it transpired. Her uneven practice shots did little to reassure Jack, but he couldn't let that show. This could be his only chance, and he had to take it.

"Remember" he said, stretcing his hands as far apart across the pipe as possible. "Hit it hard, and hit it fast, alright?"

Rose nodded uncertainly.

"Rose" Jack looked her hard in the eye. "I trust you"

Rose face hardened with determination. But as she raised the axe and prayed her aim, she closed her eyes against her better judgement, and swung.

The sound of clanging metal ringing through the room could not possibly have sounded sweeter. Jack opened his eyes to find both wrists still intact, and free.

"You did it!" he shouted with a cheer, throwing his arms around Rose at long last. "Come on, let's get out of here"

The sheer cold of the water was shocking. It took Jack's breath away for a moment as he jumped off of the desk. The nagging pain of the freezing water was bad enough, but worse was to come. The corridor which led to the upper decks was now completely flooded.

"Oh God, that was the way out!" Rose cried hopelessly.

"We'll have to find another way" said Jack. The slant of the ground below suggested that the best course of action was to head the other way down the corridor.

"Come on" he said firmly, grabbing her hand.

His suspicions were mercifully accurate. The end of the corridor held a small doorway, with a tiny inside staircase leading upwards. Their clothes weighed them down like a tonne of bricks as they hauled themselves up and out of the rising ocean below, heading for safety, together at last.

"There aren't many boats" said Rose through heavy breaths as they made it to the next deck up at long last, which was mercifully dry so far. "Not enough. We need to hurry"

"Why the hell wouldn't there be enough?!" said Jack in amazement. A ship without enough lifeboats for its passengers? Where on Earth was the logic in that?

"Haven't you heard?" Rose replied, her tone heavy with sarcasm as they hurried along the corridor towards the next route upwards. "This ship is unsinkable"


	22. Chapter 22

Chaos was the only word capable of describing the scene that Jack and Rose found when they finally made it up onto the deck at long last. The night air sank through their sea-soaked clothes, sending a chill straight to their bones, but there was no time to dwell on discomfort. Word about there being a limited number of lifeboats had begun to spread, and a slow-building panic was beginning to boil. People dashed around the deck in all directions, looking for the nearest boat, but to Rose's dismay, she couldn't see any.

"The boats are gone!" she cried in dismay, hoping she was wrong. Her eyes darted around the scrambling crowds, until she found a familiar face. It was the Colonel Archibald Gracie, a life vest tied over his evening suit, and a worried-looking lady clinging to each arm. No wonder he looked so proud of himself.

"Colonel!" Rose called, dashing over to him. He was close to the White Star staff, maybe he would know. "Please, are there any boats down this end?"

Gracie shook his head, but gestured down the deck. "No, Miss, but there are more boats all the way forward. This way, now, I'll lead you"

Ignoring his attempted gallantry, Rose grabbed Jack's hand and the two of them ran off along the deck in search of hope. There was no time for Gracie's casual pace and helpless ladies.

As they made their way down the deck, the essence of worry in the air turned to fear and distress. Before long Jack and Rose found themselves herded into a crowd of people pushing forward towards a lifeboat, controlled only by a single officer up front, barking orders into the crowd of people.

"I said women and children only, damn you!" he snapped loudly at men who attempted to push for the boat in a desperate attempt to save themselves. Over and over, he shouted the same words into the crowd; "Women and children only".

The words rang through Jack's ears, swimming through his mind like an omen of approaching darkness. This entire night was a complete assault on every fabric of his being. The intense cold of the icy water tensed his muscles uncomfortably. The wolfsbane still coursing through his veins made his head pound angrily. The overpowering stench of fear and dread of the hundreds of people around him burned his nose. To be surrounded by this many humans at once was in itself one of his most-dreaded moments, but to be in such a situation in a moment of such desperation was truly a nightmare. The constant stream of noise; distressed cries, angered shouts, the screeching and creaking of the davits that lowered a chosen few to the safety of the water below. But all of these things combined was nothing compared to the words of the officer that sealed his fate.

Jack knew that there was no chance of him getting onto a lifeboat the moment he heard those four words. He would not be allowed onto the lifeboat with Rose. He wouldn't fight his way onto a boat as the men at the front of the crowd attempted to. He could see the officer brandishing a pistol. Jack didn't know if the man would have the guts to fire it, but he didn't intend to be the test target.

Aside from the danger, he would not shamelessly steal a shot at life from an innocent woman or child. Jack was the last survivor of the werewolves, and yet there were millions of humans all over the world. It would be all too easy to think of that as a good enough excuse for ensuring his own survival, but Jack wouldn't give in to such selfishness.

As the crowd surged and Jack and Rose were pushed further to the front of the crowd, Jack looked to his side and caught sight of a desperate-looking man pleading with the officer to let his daughter onto the boat. The girl cried in protest and clung to him, but her father was firm, furiously wiping tears from his own eyes. The sight was heartbreaking.

Plenty of humans may have done plenty of terrible things throughout history. Plenty of humans were the cause of the destruction of Jack's family, his home, and his people. But not this human. Not this little girl who would give the world for her father to join her in the boat. Jack knew without thinking that if he'd had a place in the boat, he'd give it to this man.

The forbidding of men onto the boats hit Rose's soul harsher than the freezing water ever could. She knew what that would mean, and she knew that she would not accept it.

"I'm not going without you" she said firmly, turning to face Jack, her face determined.

"No, you have to go. Now" said Jack equally as firmly.

"No, Jack"

"Rose, no, you have to go. Please, get in the boat"

Unbeknownst to the pair, they were being closely watched from the edge of the crowd by none other than Caledon Hockley, whose astonishment was matched only by his fury that Jack Dawson was not yet dead. How, he had no idea, but Cal was not one to be denied what he demanded, and he wanted nothing more than to shoot the damned wolf down dead on the deck right here and now.

His grip on his handgun loosened. Against all his wishes, he could not do it. He could not shoot here and now. He'd start a full-scale stampede, not to mention risk word getting to shore that he had murdered a man on a sinking ship. Or worse, a wolf. He would be outcasted for life. Swearing under his breath, he forced his way through the crowd towards the pair, overhearing their words as he approached.

"Yes, get into the boat, Rose" he said, somewhat awkwardly.

He was met by a pair of stunned, nervous, silent stares. Neither were sure how to react to Cal. Both felt the urge to run, but where to? They were on a sinking ship, how far could they get?

Eventually, Cal broke the silence in the best way he knew.

"My God, look at you, Rose, you look a fright!" he sounded more disapproving than sympathetic, but it was the best he could muster. "Here"

He shrugged off his overcoat and draped it over Rose's shoulders, hiding her soaking and stained dress. Before he could awkwardly stroke her hair, Jack jerked her to the side, away from Cal. There wasn't much time left.

"Please, go on, now. I'll get the next one"

"You know they won't let you on! You heard what he said!"

Jack sighed. Were all humans this hard to argue with or was it a particular talent of Rose's?

"Rose, don't worry about me, alright? I'll find a way, I promise. I'm a survivor, I've had enough practice at it. I'll be alright"

Rose was not convinced, but she was running out of words.

The look of helpless, desperate love in his fiance's eyes was sickening to Cal. It was a look she was not giving to him. That she would never give to him. But nonetheless, he needed her. She had to get onto that damned boat.

"I have an arrangement on the other side of the ship, with Murdoch" Cal found himself saying. "I've secured a place in a boat. I can get him on too"

Two disbelieving sets of eyes shot him untrusting looks, but Jack forced himself to place along.

"See? Soon as you're on safe, I'll be on the next one" he tried his best to sound as reassuring as possible. He didn't think he sounded very convincing, but it was just enough. Rose's nerve wavered just long enough for her to be swept into the arms of the officer and herded onto the boat with a swift "Step aboard, Miss"

Rose found herself pressed into the wooden seat of the lifeboat before she knew it. She could still feel the tingle of Jack's skin on her palm as their hands had been swept apart. All too quickly the boat began to lower away, down the side of the ship, and away from those left behind...

Rose was stunned. As the boat sank further and further away, she couldn't take her eyes away from Jack, who never ceased to break his eyes away from hers. He smiled at her. He was trying to be encouraging and comforting, she knew, but she couldn't see it. All she could see was resignation in his sparkling blue gaze, mingled with sadness. He was saying goodbye.

She couldn't do it. She could no more physically stay sitting in this damned wooden boat than she could stop herself from lurching forwards and leaping over the side. She clung to the edge of the ship and hauled herself back onto the doomed vessel, the shouts and cries of those all around her echoing uselessly. She didn't take them in. She didn't even take in the frantic cries of her name from above. She could think of one thing, and one thing only. Returning to where she belonged.

She flew along the deck, forcing her way past anyone who stood in her way. She didn't stop, barely noticing the aches in her exhausted body as she flew through the First Class deck and towards the grand staircase. Her heart glowed with relief as she laid eyes on the sight of Jack running towards her, and with one almighty sob, she launched herself into his arms and finally, wrapped in her lover's embrace, in spite of all that surrounded them, she was happy. She was home.

Jack clung to Rose like she was the essence of life itself. He shrouded her in his embrace, burying his face in her hair, breathing in a deep lungful of her sweet, floral scent. There was not one inch of him that he didn't want to be in contact with her. He kissed her over and over, almost sobbing with relief that she was alright, joy that he could hold her in his arms one more time, and frustration that she had thrown away her shot at survival.

"You're so stupid, Rose!" he cried into her hair, giving her a shake. "Why did you do that?! Why?!"

He held her away from him to look into her eyes. Tears glittered in her emerald gaze.

"You jump I jump, right?" she said, her voice shaking.

Fresh tears threatened to escape Jack's eyes. She had come back for him. She had tossed aside the chance to live in order to die with him. He felt he would explode with love for her. Silently, he threw his arms around her yet again. holding her close to him.

"Oh God, I couldn't go. I just couldn't go, Jack" she murmured into his chest. He could feel her shaking.

"It's alright" he said, kissing her damp hair. "We'll think of something"

Jack didn't know what to do. Surely there were some boats left? Was it worth another try? They'd have to. But what if Cal was still lurking up there? Had he still gone for his own boat, after watching Rose jump out of hers?

Just as he was wondering what had become of the man who reeked of the metal that made his fortune, the tang of steel reached his nose once more. He traced the scent upwards, and matched it to the sound of footsteps thundering from above. He lifted his gaze in time to make contact with a pair of cold, black, angry eyes, for just a moment before he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

"Move!" he shouted to Rose, shoving her away from him and pulling her to run forward with him. Rose caught one quick glance of Cal, and the anger that had taken over him, before the gunshot rang out that made her scream as they ran.

"Run, Rose!" Jack pulled her after him as they tore through the First Class stairways. His supernatural hearing was just enough to pinpoint the sound of the gunshot a fraction of a second quick enough to dodge, and he jerked Rose out of the way.

Later, Rose would realise that it was amazing how much spare energy one has to run in life-or-death situations, but in the moment, all she could feel was fear as one by one, the gunshots pounded her eardrums. She didn't know who Cal was firing at, her or Jack. At this point, she highly doubted he cared whether he killed one or both of them.

Their escape route led them towards the entrance to the dining room, which by this point was half-submerged in water. They had no choice but to plunge back into the rising ocean, this time, in order to save their lives. The irony was sickening.

Rose felt herself beginning to slow as the ice seeped back into her bones, but Jack urged her onwards.

"Go!" he shouted as he pulled her forwards, the ever-present gunshots hot on their heels.

Until they weren't.

The dining room itself was on an upward slant, and as they ran along it's thick carpets, the water receded at last. And the gunshots had stopped. Rose realised with relief that he must have run out. They ran towards the dining room doors, only to find them locked.

"God damn it!" Jack snapped angrily as he attempted to force the wood apart. It wouldn't budge. Rose frantically glanced back the way they'd ran, dreading the sight of their attacker following them. But he didn't come.

"I can;t get it open" Jack practically growled in frustration as he kicked the door, willing it to open. It was their only way out.

Suddenly, he pricked up his ears in alarm. Splashing. Wading. Steps. Suddenly, the foul stench of charred wood filled his nose. Was that...? No. It couldn't be. But it was.

"He's coming" Jack's voice was harrowingly calm.

"Who's coming" Rose asked, her voice shaking with adrenaline.

"Get down" Jack snapped, pulling Rose down onto all fours with him, behind the table. Everything inside him told him to run, but they couldn't. They were cornered, trapped. They'd have to hide. It was all they could do.

"I'd give it to you. If you can get it" Cal has said to Lovejoy as he'd fled up the grand staircase to safety like the coward he was. Lovejoy couldn't give two damns about the blasted diamond. It wasn't the rock he was after. It was the wolf. The world around him groaned in pain as it's demise approached, and possibly Lovejoy's own life with it, but that didn't matter so much right now. All that mattered was finishing what he had started all those years ago. Finishing his life's task. Then he could die in peace.

His silver gun in a white-knuckled grip, he waded through the water towards the dining room.

It was a relief to trudge along the upward slope and out of the water. He moved quickly towards the end doors, and found them locked tight. The pair had not escaped this way. And yet the room around him was empty, silent except for the gentle sloshing of the water. Lovejoy realised that they must still be here. Of course. The wolf's sense would have heard and smelled him coming. He grinned as he realised his prey was hiding from him. The beast that had dodged far too many bullets was hiding from the hunter. This was too easy.

Lovejoy stepped lightly along the carpeted floors. Years of wolf-hunting had taught him how to be silent whilst stalking. He would fish them out soon enough.

Jack and Rose edged their way carefully along from behind the tables, each so intricately laid out for a dinner that would never be served. They crept along, one table at a time, and every so often Jack would lift his head just a fraction to track Lovejoy's progress. If they could just head back the way they came, maybe there'd be a chance...

"I know you're here" Lovejoy called out into the silent dining room. His steps may be silent, but the moment was too sweet to resist a taunt. "There's no use prolonging this. It's only a matter of time..."

Rose's heart pounded in her chest so loudly that she was amazed it didn't alert Lovejoy to their whereabouts. He was about 10 metres away, and pacing slowly. The water had begun to rise, and they now trudged through it on all-fours, about elbow-deep. Rose was soaked, weighted down, and feeling hopelessly trapped. Jack could sense her distress, and he didn't know if she could manage much longer. They paused behind a large table for a breather, to gather their wits. It was then that Jack felt it.

It was a tiny flicker of awareness at first, but then all too suddenly it was blindingly apparently. It was as though a light has gone on inside him, brightening up the world in a blazing glory. His headache subsided, the ache in his muscles faded, and it was as though a missing piece of him had been found once more. The wolfsbane had at last worn off. Overjoyed with relief, Jack stretched his back and rolled his neck, the feeling of his bones cracking into place more satisfying than an early-morning stretch. Rose looked on in confusion. She had no idea what was going on.

Jack knew what to do. What had to be done. It may be their only chance. His refined hearing could detect every breath of Lovejoy, every beat of his heart, the brush of every carpet fibre his shoe stroked as he prowled.

Jack turned to Rose and put his hand up in front of her face. He met her eyes and mouthed firmly and clearly, "Stay here".

Confused and cowed, Rose nodded.

She leaned heavily against the chair that shielded her, and curled her knees to her chest as she watched Jack creep off to the next table alone. She couldn't stop herself from shaking. It was impossible. She gripped the seat of the chair, digging her nails into the plush fabric in a vain attempt for relief. But her nerve shattered, her grip clammed, and her fingers slid from the chair and splashed into the water. Her heart skipped a beat as the splash thundered through her ears as loud as church bells. She had blown it, surely. He couldn't have not heard that.

Jack's head whipped round automatically to the sound of the splash. He had made it about five tables along, and judging by his scent, Lovejoy was a mere few metres away. But now his attention turned towards the table Rose hid behind, and Jack could only watch in dread as the hunter strode, swiftly and confidently, towards his love.

Rose was frozen solid. She couldn't move, even if she had anywhere to go. And yet so, it seemed, were her emotions. She felt nothing. There was no terror as the face of her killer strode around the edge of the table and looked down at her with a chillingly triumphant smirk. His eyes glittered with bloodlust. He raised his pistol to her head.

"We've been looking for you, Miss"

And suddenly, in the moment that Rose was sure would be her last, there came an almighty snarl, and a golden streak that tore through the air from across the room and landed on Lovejoy's back. The hunter let out twisted, strangled groans and cries as the wolf tore into him, snarling and savaging. Lovejoy fell to his knees, crashing into the water with an almighty splash. Rose could only sit and watch, shell-shocked, as the two beings rolled and wrestled on the ground, as little drops of deep red blood began to fade into the crystal water. She couldn't even guess who's blood it was.

Finally, after one last heaving burst of angered strength, Jack had his prey pinned to the floor, the waterline only just shallow enough to keep Lovejoy's face above it. Lovejoy panted heavily, without a drop of strength left to fight against the claws digging deep into his shoulders, holding him down.

Jack looked down at his prey, at the man who had torn his world apart, who had stolen so much from him. He saw in those mercilessly grey eyes, the eyes of every hunter, of every sympathiser, of every human that had brought him to this unavoidable moment. Jack took a long look to savour the moment, a low growl in his throat as he bared his teeth, gazing down at the beast below him, before at long last, plunging his head down for the death bite.

The blood ran thick and deep through the water, and Rose finally found the strength to haul herself up and away before it reached her. In the two seconds her sight had been directed at the mangled body of her fiance's valet at her feet, Jack had disappeared. She glanced around wildly for a moment, before finally seeing him emerge from behind a close by table; human, and clean.

Jack had been thankful for the flood in that instant. He had killed his first (and only, he vowed) human. Lovejoy's death may have been necessary and justified, but nonetheless, Jack felt dirty, tainted, and he wanted rid of the evidence as soon as possible. The rising ocean washed the blood from his fur, and it's painful shock kept his nerves steady.

He shifted quickly back to human form and made his way back to Rose, grabbing her arm and leading her back through the dining room, towards the ever fading light that was their hopes of survival.


End file.
